


You with the Stars in Your Eyes

by starlightwalking



Series: A-Spectrum Anthology [10]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic Characters, Asexual Characters, Bisexual Characters, Cinderella AU, F/M, Gen, M/M, Misgendering, Nonbinary Character, Other: See Story Notes, Sibling Love, Starlit Romance, Transgender Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7064122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When King Thorin of Erebor proposes a ball to find a suitable wife for his eldest nephew, Prince Fili and Prince Kili know they must do something about it. Fili does not wish to marry, but Kili is willing to look for a bride of his own. There must be another solution, if only Thorin and Dis could see past their expectations for the young princes. </p><p>Meanwhile, Lord Thranduil is on the verge of financial collapse and sees no other option than to marry off one of his children in order to save his reputation and his family life. Marrying off his own child seems to be the easiest solution, but Legolas is very averse to the idea. His step-daughter Tauriel wishes to go to the ball more than anything, but Thranduil's own prejudices and Tauriel's insecurities may stop this starlit romance before it even begins...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my newest project: a Kiliel Cinderella AU with a side of sibling relationships! (Actually, with what I've written so far, I'd say the romance is the side to the sibling relationships. Regardless, they're both there, and I tried my best to make them both wonderful.)
> 
> A few warnings/etc before you begin:  
> This story features some of my specific headcanons: aroace Fíli, nonbinary aroace Legolas, trans girl Tauriel, bisexual trans boy Kíli, and bisexual Thranduil & Bard.  
> Characters are misgendered & deadnamed but never maliciously, only because they aren’t out. This fic contains some transphobia, be warned! However I don’t think there will be a lot and I will mark the chapters it appears in.  
> This is set in a fantasy AU! I mean technically canon is a fantasy AU, but this is a different kind of fantasy setting. They’re all human and everyone lives in Erebor, even people who were elves in canon. There’s some modern terminology, especially for queer stuff, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ what can you do?  
> There will be some angst, but this is going to have a happy ending for everyone and no death at all! (Well, except in the past. Once the plot gets going there isn’t any death.)
> 
> I'm updating this fic as I write it, unlike most of my other stories, so updates are not going to be on any sort of schedules. I'll try not to make them few and far between, but I'm a busy person. I'll do what I can. I'm really excited about this fic, and I do promise I'll finish it.  
> I'm not sure how long it's going to be, but probably around 15 chapters is my current estimate.  
> The title is from "Hey There" in the musical Pajama Game. Fun fact: my high school did that show last March, it was lots of fun and that song in particular stuck with me as such a Kiliel line, even if the rest of the show was nothing like them.  
> Thank you so much to my amazing beta & incredible friend, Buffintruda!!
> 
> Content warnings for this specific chapter: some misgendering & coming out confusion.

 

He told Fíli first. Out of everyone, he was closest to his brother. He knew he could trust Fíli, the friend closest to his heart.

He was very young. He knew that, and he knew people would say he was too young to know who he was, but he also knew they were wrong.

"Fíli, let me try on your old clothes," he'd begged his brother. He hated wearing the dresses his mother forced him into, he hated the _ma'am_ s and _my lady_ s and _little girl_ s he received from doting nobility. His brother was ten, four years older than he was, but he was sure that the clothes would fit. They would suit him better than his dresses, at least.

"No," Fíli told him, shaking his head. "You're a girl. Girls don't wear suits or trousers or anything like that."

"They dress me up in tiny gowns, but that's not who I _am_ ," he insisted. He thought everyone knew by now; or at least, they _should_ know. He played at being a girl, but he wasn't really. Surely Fíli could see that, even if everyone else seemed to be oblivious.

Fíli looked at him, frowning. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean—" He broke off, trying to figure out how to word it. "I mean, they all call me a girl, they pretend I am because that's what Mother always wanted. Her little girl. And I think they really believe it, Uncle Thorin and Mother and the rest of them. But I'm not. A girl, I mean. I'm a boy."

Fíli only stared at him for a few moments. His heart pounded. He'd never said that aloud before, and he was afraid his brother wouldn't believe him.

"Well, then," Fíli said slowly, "if you're going to be my brother instead of my sister, I guess I should let you wear my old clothes. Though I'm sure Mother could find you some new ones if you asked."

He beamed. Fíli helped him try on the old trousers, and even a suit for formal occasions. Uncle Thorin was king of all Erebor and that always meant the two of them had to dress nice when he brought them to meet his nobles. Even dinners just as a family—Thorin, their mother, and the two of them—required formalwear.

"Oh, by the way," Fíli asked, "since you're a boy, do you have boy's name, or are you keeping your girl's name?"

He thought for a moment. It was not a matter he had never considered before. "I like Kíli," he said. "I think that fits me. It's a family name, anyway." It was; his grandfather on his father's side had been named Kíli. He'd never met either his father or his grandfather—they had both died before he was born, but he wanted to honor their memories, and "Kíli" just felt right.

"Okay, Kíli," Fíli said.

Emboldened by his brother's easy acceptance, Kíli wore Fíli's clothes to dinner that night. He felt better in them, more like himself. He and Fíli walked in together. He could feel his brother tense up as Thorin and their mother, Dís, stared at him.

Kíli walked up, trying his best to sit normally. It was different, sitting in trousers instead of a dress. He picked up his fork and began to shovel food into his mouth as gentlemanly as he could. Beside him, Fíli did the same. Thorin and Dís only continued to stare.

"What is all this about?" Thorin finally asked.

"What do you mean?" Kíli asked innocently.

Thorin gestured to him. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"Oh, Fíli let me try on his old clothes," he said cheerfully. He tried to ignore that his hand shook. He dropped his fork onto his plate.

"Fíli, it's all fine and good to play games, but you can't let her walk about in those," Dís chided him.

"I'm not playing a game," Kíli insisted. "I'm a boy! So I'm dressed like one!"

Thorin and Dís stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?" Dís asked.

"I mean that I'm a boy," Kíli said, a bit shyly. "You call me a girl and dress me like one but I always...I knew I'm not a girl. I'm a boy."

Thorin turned to Dís questioningly. Kíli's heart pounded in his chest. Beside him, Fíli looked anxiously between his mother and his brother.

"My child, you are very young," Dís said slowly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Kíli said.

"Well, this is not unprecedented," Thorin said in his low, rumbling voice. "There have been others, even in the royal family, who disagreed with which category they were placed in at birth."

"Really?" Kíli asked, his eyes shining.

Dís nodded, smiling softly. "Yes. Your uncle Frerin, our brother—he felt the same."

Kíli remembered his Uncle Frerin. He was the prince of a distant country, married to the second son of the kingdom. He'd visited Erebor only once in Kíli's memory. He smiled, glad to know he wasn't alone.

"Hey, uh," Fíli muttered, nudging him. "You gonna tell them your new name?"

"Oh. Yeah." Kíli looked up at his mother and uncle. "Um. I have a boy's name now."

"What is it, lad?" Thorin asked. Kíli's heart warmed to hear his uncle calling him "lad".

"Kíli," he told them.

Dís's eyes lit with recognition. That had been her father-in-law's name. "That's a fine name, Kíli," she said gently.

"But—isn't it a little similar to your brother's...?" Thorin said hesitantly. One look from Dís and Fíli shut him up, and he hastily changed his mind and said, "Never mind, lad, it's a wonderful name. Kíli. I like it."

* * *

Kíli started wearing boy's clothes all the time. Word spread slowly at first, until his seventh birthday, when King Thorin introduced him as his nephew. Soon, the whole kingdom knew.

Kíli was terrified at first, worried everyone would think he was strange or unworthy to be part of the royal family. But the reaction was mostly positive. An enthusiastic letter from Uncle Frerin arrived. For months, Kíli read it every night before he went to bed, glad to be loved by his family. A few people did protest that it was unnatural, but a royal decree from Thorin quickly stifled any problems.

Years passed. He and Fíli took classes together, learning how to fight and ride horses and do other princely activities. He felt very much like a boy, and the other noble boys his age treated him like one of their own.

Aside from Frerin, other people who had been assigned the wrong gender at birth made themselves known to them, and he learned the words they used to describe each other. _Transgender_ was one of them, people who did not fit society's expectations of gender. There were men and women, but some of them were both, or neither, being something else entirely: _nonbinary_. The words were confusing at first, but Frerin sent a continual stream of letters explaining terminology and offering advice and answers to questions. One year, Frerin even came to visit, and Kíli was elated to see him.

Over time, the people of Erebor and the surrounding areas began to forget they had ever seen him as female. He had been very young when he came out as transgender, after all—there were some people who had never known him as anything other than the younger prince, and others who had forgotten they'd ever called him a princess. He was simply Kíli, Prince of Erebor. He was grateful for the acceptance he had received, though he know it was in a large part due to those who had come before him, like Frerin, and because of the great influence of his uncle, King Thorin.

He grew older, and his body began to change. He hated it: his breasts and his hips grew wider and fuller, and he began to bleed on a monthly occasion. He still dressed and acted like a boy, of course, but this was a constant reminder that he could be taken for something he was not.

There were healers and doctors summoned by Thorin and Dís to help him feel more comfortable; Frerin sent even more advice in ever-longer letters from his home in a faraway kingdom. The healers helped him bind his breasts and gave him herbs and medicines that would make his appearance change to look more like the stereotypical man's. As he grew older, they helped: his bleeding lessened and came less frequently; along with exercise, it helped his muscles strengthen and his fat redistribute to different areas; he even began to grow a short, stubbly beard that he wore proudly even though it refused to grow much longer than a few centimeters. Even with the medicines, though, he remained infuriatingly short.

Fíli, on the other hand, never had to deal with any of this. He supported Kíli through his trials, of course, and Kíli was grateful for that, but he couldn't help feeling a little jealous of the ease at which his brother carried himself and thought of himself. Kíli knew that even as he reached adulthood, he looked like a little boy at best and a strange-looking girl at worst, and though he thought he could pass for a male and everyone who knew him clearly thought of him as one, a stranger might be confused or mistake him for being something he wasn't.

As he grew older, this was not the only confusion he faced. His mother had told him about love and romance and all that came along with it, but no one was sure whether he would like girls or boys. It was different for everyone, of course, but there was a statistical likeliness that most people would be attracted to the one that was different than themself. Kíli was afraid that if he liked boys, people would say he had been lying all along and was really a girl at heart, not a gay man. But if he liked girls, they might say he was a gay woman instead. People always seemed so preoccupied with genitals, he noticed with great irritation, even though they were such a small and insignificant part of a person overall.

As it turned out, Kíli did not have to worry: he turned out to like both men and women. He found both of those genders equally attractive and he suffered the plight of love several times over, though never very seriously. There were words for that, too, he learned from Frerin, the chief among them and the most relatable to him being bisexual.

Fíli watched over him with sympathy and slight amusement each time. He had escaped the hand of the love gods, apparently, and never felt the way that Kíli did about anyone. Frerin's letters served as useful to him, as well; it was from their uncle that he first learned the words _aromantic_ and _asexual_. At first, Fíli was scared to make the words his own, but Kíli offered him comfort.

"It's alright," he told his brother. "You don't have to fall in love or anything. Believe me, it's not all it's cracked up to be." He laughed. "Besides, I'm bisexual. I can like people enough for the both of us."

Fíli smiled. "Thanks, Kíli," he said. Kíli didn't know it, but Fíli never forgot that remark, and his love for his brother was only increased after that conversation.

The years passed, and Kíli grew into a truly handsome young man—at least by his own reckoning. Several ladies of the court agreed with him, and a few of the gentlemen, as well. Fíli also caught the affections of a few young nobles, though being aromantic and asexual, he was indifferent to their advances.

Uncle Thorin and their mother began to drop hints about marriage and children to them both; but Kíli felt too young for such monumental steps in his life and Fíli was uninterested in ever doing either of those things. Kíli and Fíli both grew tired of Dís's casual remarks about how beautiful Lady So-and-So was, don't you think, but neither of them really felt like confronting her about it.

Still, neither of them really worried about what their guardians expected. Sure, one of them needed to produce an heir, but that would come much later in life.

It was too bad that King Thorin and Duke Bard thought otherwise.


	2. The Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legolas’s pronouns for this fic are xe/xem/xir (pronounced zee/zem/zer).  
> I had to make Thranduil into an antagonist and I feel pretty bad about it, so I tried to make him human and more sympathetic, but in Tauriel's eyes he's pretty awful.  
> I posted this chapter today for Tauriel Appreciation Week, since it focuses pretty heavily on her.
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter: Character death. Tauriel misgenders herself & Legolas in the beginning because neither of them have realized they are trans yet. Since they do not come out / have not yet realized, other characters (especially Thranduil) will misgender them as well. This continues beyond this chapter, and affects the plot as well.
> 
> All my non-canon names are in Woodelven Sindarin and taken from realelvish.net. Name meanings: Merilon = “rose”, Arasseth = “doe”, Caranon = “red one”, Síreth = “river”.

The noble house of Silva, once a great and wealthy family, had long ago faded from its original glory. Conquered in ages past, Silva had become part of the kingdom of Erebor. For generations, what wealth they had retained was squandered, until the title of Lord of Silva fell into the hands of a sensible nobleman called Merilon.

Lord Merilon could do only so much to restore the wealth and prestige of Silva. Most of its lands and holdings were no longer owned by his family, but he began to save money in an attempt to regain prestige. He married his wife, Lady Arasseth, not only because she was beautiful and kind, but also because she was the eldest daughter of a rich house and brought a considerable dowry.

Arasseth and Merilon had one child, whom they loved very much. The Lord and Lady of Silva lived in peace for several years with their beautiful child, until suddenly, Lord Merilon died. Lady Arasseth was plunged deep into mourning.

Their child, Tauriel, was only four at the time. She missed her father dearly, but he began to fade from her memories as she grew older.

When little Tauriel was eight years old, Lady Arasseth remarried. Her new stepfather was a gentleman named Lord Thranduil of Greenleaf who had most tragically lost his family in the fire that burned his own lands. The only survivors had been him and his seven-year-old child, whom he called Síreth.

Tauriel, it should be noted, was not known by her true name at that point. Her mother and father had deemed her a boy when she had been born and called her "little Lord Caranon". She did not even know that she was not truly a boy when she first met Thranduil and Síreth.

She did not like either Thranduil or his little girl. She did not like that they had come to live with her and her mother. She did not like Thranduil's patronizing attitude toward her, and she did not like Síreth's pouty face and beautiful blonde hair. And she most definitely did not like her father being replaced like this.

In the marriage, Thranduil did not bring anything to renew the house of Silva's former glory. Her mother did not marry for riches, but because she was lonely and needed new love.

"Am I not company enough for you?" Tauriel had demanded when she first heard the news that Arasseth was engaged to Thranduil.

Arasseth only laughed and embraced her. "My dear Caranon, you are the only company I need. But Thranduil can be another kind of company, one that I wish for and have dearly missed ever since your father's death."

Tauriel did not understand. Thranduil was not rich. He was most likely only marrying Arasseth for her money. Silva was a poor house, but this meant Lord Thranduil's own house of Greenleaf was even poorer, if he came to them for help. What could he give to her mother?

The answer was _love_ , of a certain kind Tauriel did not yet understand. (Thranduil's own child also did not understand, and would never understand.)

Arasseth did seem happier after the marriage, but Tauriel still found her step-family to be absolutely unbearable. She was openly rude to Thranduil and refused to play with Síreth, for all Arasseth tried to push friendship between them.

One day, Arasseth became very ill. Thranduil summoned all kinds of healers and doctors to tend to her, slowly depleting the already meager wealth of Silva, but their efforts were in vain.

Tauriel was twelve when her mother died. The funeral was a solemn affair. She wore a black suit to match Thranduil's and watched as Arasseth's body was lowered into the ground beside her father. At least Thranduil had allowed that; Tauriel had been afraid he would insist her mother be buried not with Merilon, but in some plot of land far away where he himself would be buried someday.

For two days after the funeral, Tauriel locked herself in her room. The only family she had left were Thranduil and Síreth, and she did not want to be with them. Alone in her room, she examined herself and her situation. Arasseth was dead, lying in her grave beside Merilon. She was alone in a house with only Thranduil and Síreth. Thranduil was her awful step-father, the worst man she had ever met, and he could never be good enough to be her father. Síreth, that beautiful wretch, was gold-haired and blue-eyed and perfect in her father's eyes. She had worn a gorgeous black dress and a dainty hat at the funeral, watching her step-mother's body be lowered into the ground, and she had looked far more miserable than Tauriel had expected.

For the first time, Tauriel realized the pang of anger she felt every time she looked at Síreth was not animosity, but jealousy. Síreth had a father. Tauriel did not. Síreth was a _girl_ , she wore beautiful dresses, and Tauriel had always secretly wished she was not a boy. She still thought of herself as a boy at this point, and responded dutifully to male terms and to her false name of Caranon, but...

It was in these days that Tauriel first realized her melancholy state was caused not only by her grief over her parents' death, but by her name, the outfit she had worn to Arasseth's funeral, and all other indicators that she was a boy. "Caranon" fit her even less than the too-big suit had. She had always been sort of aware of how uncomfortable her boyish facade was, but now she could scarcely think about anything else.

She was not "little Lord Caranon". She was a lady, and scarcely little anymore. She had seen Síreth grow older and more beautiful, and though Thranduil's daughter did not seem especially thrilled about those womanly changes, Tauriel was immensely jealous of her. _Tauriel_ should have been the one in the gorgeous black dress at the funeral. She was her mother's _daughter_ , not her son. She was a girl.

Even admitting this to herself was difficult. It was not how she had been raised. It was not how her parents had viewed her, nor how anyone else had viewed her. But it was her—the _true_ her. She didn't know what to do with this information. Ought she to tell Thranduil and Síreth and everyone else? No, she did not want to. Not yet. Maybe not ever. At least, not for a long time. But she began to call herself a _she_ and she gave herself a new name, one that fit her better: _Tauriel_.

Thranduil tried to draw her out of her room, to no avail. Tauriel hated him. Somehow, she presumed, Arasseth's death must have been his fault. None of this would have happened had it not been for him and Síreth.

At last, Thranduil sent Síreth into Tauriel's room in an effort to bring her out of her seclusion. Tauriel grudgingly let her in.

"Hey, Caranon," Síreth said quietly. Tauriel didn't flinch at hearing her old name. Her new one was too recent for it to come as a shock.

Tauriel said nothing.

"I know it's..." Síreth trailed off. "...hard," she finished. "Losing your mother. I know. I lost my mother too, you know."

Tauriel already knew this. She'd heard the story several times before, told by Thranduil and Arasseth and Síreth herself. There had been a fire, burning down all of castle Greenleaf and most of its inhabitants, including Síreth's mother and her siblings. Only Thranduil and Síreth had survived.

"But you've just gotta keep moving," Síreth, her voice soft. "You can't lock yourself in your room forever. Life keeps moving, even if someone you love isn't in it anymore."

"I know," Tauriel mumbled. Her mother had given her a very similar talk when her father had died. Only, her mother wasn't here to give her the talk again. Síreth was a poor substitute, but at least... Well, at least she seemed to care.

"I know you don't like me," Síreth said. She smiled wryly. "In your place, I wouldn't like me, either. But we have each other now that Lady Arasseth is gone. My father isn't so bad, you know. If we come together, we can keep moving."

Tauriel didn't want to come together with Thranduil, but she knew Síreth was right.

"Okay," she said quietly.

Síreth hugged her. "Okay. Thanks, Caranon." She trembled just a little. Tauriel's heart softened toward her. Arasseth had done her best to love her step-child, and it must have hurt Síreth to lose a second mother figure.

Tauriel hugged her back.

* * *

Over the next few years, Tauriel and Síreth became very close. Thranduil still remained awful, at least in Tauriel's eyes, but she tolerated his presence. He was bitter and angry, and often shouted at her, especially when she acted in a way he didn't see fit for a little lord to be like.

Thranduil's failings were not confined only to his attitude toward his step-daughter. After Arasseth's death, he squandered what little money the house of Silva had left. Eventually, all servants and workers that had once tended to their small house and plot of land were dismissed, since he could no longer afford to pay them. Now, he forced Síreth and Tauriel (but mostly Tauriel) to do all the work they once had.

He did some of it himself, of course, but Tauriel's fourteen-year-old mind saw only the injustices he committed. Thranduil was not _all_ bad. He was dealing with his second heartbreak in less than a decade, and his poor attitude was heavily influenced by those tragedies. He was bitter and felt that the gods were punishing him for some sin he had once committed. He thought he was unfit to be a father, especially not to Tauriel, and he distanced himself from his children whenever possible. Now that they were getting along, he thought they did not need him. He was wrong on nearly every count, but he was not a true villain.

Tauriel kept her secret—that she was a girl—locked inside her heart for two years. Thranduil would certainly not be the first she told, but she eventually worked up the courage to tell Síreth.

They sat across from each other in Síreth's room. It was well past midnight, and Thranduil was fast asleep in his bed. The two of them often talked late into the night, but now, Tauriel was trying to calm her nerves. Tonight was the night she was going to tell Síreth she was a girl.

Síreth talked on and on about how some annoying boy from the city a few miles away would try and flirt with her every time she went into town on an errand. Tauriel listened politely, not really paying attention.

"But anyway..." Síreth blinked. "I know, that's not very interesting. What's on your mind, Caranon?" She smiled at her.

Tauriel sighed. "Oh. Um." She took a deep breath. "Well, there's something...I wanted to tell you."

"What is it?" Síreth asked, tilting her head curiously.

Tauriel took a deep breath. "Síreth, do you ever feel like...like something's not right with the way other people think about you? Like you're different inside than how they see you?"

Síreth nodded. "Yeah. I think everyone feels like that, a little bit." She glanced away, then looked back at Tauriel.

"A little bit, yeah," Tauriel agreed, "but..." She shook her head. "I feel like that all the time. Everyone calls me Lord Caranon of Silva, that poor little boy who lost his parents...but it's not the true me. I'm not..." She paused, then said very quickly, "I'm not a boy."

Síreth gazed at her with wide eyes. "Oh," she said quietly. Tauriel's heart pounded. She hoped Síreth would believe her.

"Okay," Síreth said. She nodded. "So...you're not a boy. Then what are you?"

"Well...a girl," Tauriel said. She didn't know there were any other options. She grinned. It felt good to tell someone.

Síreth's eyes flashed in understanding. "Okay," she said slowly. "So...you're my sister, then?"

"Yeah," Tauriel agreed. "My name's not Caranon. I'm Tauriel."

"That's a nice name," Síreth said. She smiled, scooting closer to Tauriel. "That's really cool. I miss having a sister. I had one when... Before the fire. Before Father and I came here. Her name was Telvien." She frowned at the memory. "I miss her. And my mother, and my brothers. But I have you now."

Tauriel embraced her, and Síreth quickly hugged her back. "Thank you," Tauriel whispered, clinging to her step-sibling tightly. Síreth only giggled a little.

After they broke apart, Síreth looked at her. "You know, I'm not really all that surprised you're a girl," she said. "You act a lot like one. Anyway, I don't really like being a girl all that much, but you know, I'm glad you do."

Tauriel wondered if maybe Síreth was like her. Maybe she was actually a boy, if she didn't like being a girl. That was often how she had felt before she had realized she actually was a girl.

"You know, the prince is like you," Síreth said unexpectedly. "The younger one, Prince Kíli. I remember hearing the news that he was a boy, not a girl like everyone thought. It was a long time ago, before the fire."

Tauriel frowned. She didn't remember. She had never met Prince Kíli—Arasseth and Merilon, being poor as they were, did not often go to court. She hadn't known that.

"My father said it was a nice thing, but my mother thought it was strange," Síreth continued. She looked at Tauriel. "Are you going to tell Father?"

Tauriel grimaced. "No," she snapped. "Not _him_."

"I think he'd be fine with it," Síreth told her.

"I think he wouldn't," Tauriel said flatly.

"Okay, okay," Síreth said, holding her hands up. "I won't tell him. Is it okay if I still call you Caranon in front of him?"

"Yes," Tauriel said. She would rather that than have Síreth tell him.

After that day, Tauriel felt much better when talking with Síreth. Her step-sibling proved to be an invaluable friend, and she always called Tauriel by her proper name and pronouns, when alone.

Thranduil, on the other hand, was unaware of any changes in Tauriel. He had no idea that she was not a boy and any awkward attempts to teach his step-"son" any boyish skills such as fencing or taxes were met with disgust. It was not that Tauriel found the tasks themselves to be inherently gendered or not worthwhile; it was that the only reason he was teaching them to her and not to Síreth was because he thought she was a boy.

Síreth was sympathetic to her plight, often remarking how unnecessarily gendered everyday things were. As the years went on, it became clearer to both of them that Síreth was more like Tauriel than they had first imagined.

Thranduil often sent Síreth into the city to run errands, and each time, Síreth returned with more information about the outside world. Tauriel could not remember a time she had not lived in the declining house just outside the capital of Erebor (the original lands of Silva having been taken from her family's hands in ages past). Síreth, on the other hand, had lived in Greenleaf before the fire, and went into the city often.

She learned all sorts of words from the people in the city, and passed them along to Tauriel: business terms, slang, and also things like _gay_ , _bisexual_ , and _transgender_. That last one fit Tauriel's experiences with gender very well. She wished she had known of it sooner; it would have made her journey of self-discovery easier if she had known there were others like her.

As it was, her only journey was internal and metaphorical. Tauriel was kept busy all day with an increasing amount of chores assigned to her by Thranduil. Síreth was lucky: among her other duties, she got to visit the city.

Síreth's words were useful to herself, too. She quickly latched onto two in particular: _aromantic_ and _asexual_. That meant she didn't like anyone in a romantic or sexual way. Tauriel considered relating those terms to herself, but she didn't feel like they quite fit. Though it hadn't ever happened before, she did think she could probably fall in love, and she certainly dreamed of marriage someday.

Síreth, on the other hand, did not.

"Can you believe the nerve my father has?" she demanded one day, stomping around Tauriel's room in a fit of rage.

"Yes," Tauriel said snidely.

Síreth only shook her head. "Besides your petty grievances—"

"There's nothing _petty_ about them," Tauriel muttered.

"Besides that," Síreth repeated, "he's looking into finding me a husband! Me! A husband!"

Even Tauriel was surprised by that. She and Síreth were only sixteen, the distances between their ages being only a matter of months.

"What?" she exclaimed.

"I know! It's ridiculous!" Síreth scowled. "He says we all need the money, and having me marry rich is the best way to get it. Not if I have anything to say about it!"

"Why you, and not me?" Tauriel asked, puzzled. "You'll have to have a dowry, and your money will go to your husband. Since everyone thinks I'm a boy, it'd be the other way around for me."

"He has more control over me," Síreth explained. "And he knows I'll forgive him for it. You already hate him, he doesn't want to make it worse." She made a face. "It's awful. Especially considering—" She broke off, her face reddening.

"What?" Tauriel asked.

Síreth took a deep breath, sitting down beside her. "Well, especially considering, you know—since I'm not actually a girl."

"Oh!" Tauriel was not too terribly surprised, but it was a startling revelation nonetheless. "You're transgender, too?"

She—he?—shrugged. "I guess. A couple months ago, I heard a new word, and it just clicked. _Nonbinary_. Someone who's not a woman or a man. And I was so excited, at first, because finally, something fit. But..." There was a pause. "Then I remembered _you_ were already transgender, so it would be silly for me too be _too_... But I kept thinking of myself that way, and well...I'm pretty confident about it now. I'm nonbinary. Not a girl, but not a boy, either."

Tauriel nodded thoughtfully. She wished her being trans hadn't affected her step-sibling, but she was glad Síreth—if she still wanted to be called that, or even called a she—had figured it out. It made a lot of sense.

"So...how do you want me to refer to you?" she asked.

"Well, I did play around with pronouns," her step-sibling replied. "I don't really like 'he' or 'she' all that much, and 'they' was kind of close, but not quite... See, I keep learning all these words from a particular friend of mine in the city. Their name's Gimli. They know a _lot_ of words and a _lot_ of people. One of their friends uses 'xe'. Like, 'xe went to the market' or 'xir father gave xem a gift'. Like that. And that fits me, too." Xe blinked at her, looking just as vulnerable as Tauriel had felt when she had come out.

"Alright," Tauriel said, nodding. Those pronouns were not common, but she would do her best to use them correctly. She knew how important pronouns could be. "Do you have a new name?" That was another important thing to ask.

Xe nodded. "Yeah. I never liked 'Síreth' all that much. I mean, it's a nice name, but it's not _my_ name, you know? So I picked a different one: Legolas. It's not a girl's name _or_ a boy's name, so I think it's a lot better."

"Legolas," Tauriel repeated. She nodded. "Okay, Legolas." She scooted forward and embraced xem. Xe hugged her back, for once saying nothing.

* * *

Neither Legolas or Tauriel told Thranduil they were transgender. Tauriel still didn't trust him, and Legolas just didn't feel ready. It was unfortunate that their father kept calling them by the wrong names and pronouns, but Tauriel thought it was a worthwhile sacrifice, and Legolas did xir best to endure it.

Legolas let Tauriel try on xir dresses when she was feeling especially low. Xe was a lot smaller than her, so it was a tight fit, but it helped her feel better. Once, she tried to try on Legolas's shoes, but they both burst into laughter: xir feet were tiny, and hers were huge. Any ladies' heel or shoe that she could wear would have to be crafted with her in mind.

Legolas didn't really mind wearing dresses, but xe did wish xe could wear other other kinds of clothes sometimes. Tauriel let xem try on her too-big trousers, but xe complained that they were so loose xe might as well just be wearing a dress.

Thranduil continued his search to find a husband for his child, much to Legolas's chagrin. However, he had such little offer that it was hard to find any rich nobleman who wanted to marry xem, so his efforts were ongoing. Tauriel was sympathetic to xir plight. She wouldn't like to be in xir place, with marriage forced upon her, but she thought getting married wouldn't be so bad if she loved the other person. Perhaps, if both came out, Thranduil would switch tracks and find _her_ a husband instead, if money was all he was looking for, but she still didn't want to tell him she was a girl unless it was absolutely necessary.

She did not expect the day that she would be forced to make that choice to come so soon.


	3. Fíli's Doom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're getting to the plot!  
> Content warnings for this chapter: arophobia, minor swearing.

Kíli never found the council meets he was forced to attend due to his princely status very interesting, but this one promised to be particularly boring. This time, many of the nobles of Erebor had convened to discuss the matter of succession: who would inherit after King Thorin's death.

Kíli, the younger nephew, had nothing to worry about. He was far removed from the throne; Thorin had a brother and a sister before the line would pass to Dís's children, and Fíli, as the older of the two brothers, would be the one in danger of inheriting. Besides, Thorin, while not exactly young, would not die for many years yet. Kíli rather thought he would skip the meeting in favor of riding through the forests outside the city, a favorite pastime of his.

Fíli insisted he go, but Kíli was not impressed with what his brother had to say. He didn't care about saving face; he already had a reputation as the errant younger prince, and frankly, he'd like to keep it it that way. If his dashing looks and charming personality weren't enough to attract beautiful young nobles to him, perhaps a roguish and adventurous lifestyle would make him more alluring.

Kíli really had no intentions of marrying or settling down any time soon, but he _was_ disappointed that so many young nobles were always trying to catch Fíli's eye, but rarely his. His brother, being aroace, didn't even _want_ a romantic companion. Kíli did, though certainly not a long term one. It wasn't fair.

Despite his brother's urgings, Kíli snuck out to the stables and mounted his horse just before the meeting began. Before he could take off to the forest and be free, however, someone saw him.

"Your Highness?" a stablehand asked.

Kíli sighed, disappointed that he had been caught. "Hello, Bofur." He had known this stablehand ever since he was a child. It was Bofur who had taught him to ride, and they were good friends.

"Isn't there some council or another going on?" Bofur asked him, crossing his arms. "Shouldn't you be there, seeing as you're a prince?"

Kíli waved his hands grandly. "Bofur, that's so perceptive of you. I'm afraid that I _should_ be there...but instead, somehow, I am not." He grinned cheekily. "It's a shame. I'm sure it was _such_ an interesting meeting."

"Your uncle will be upset, your Highness," Bofur remarked.

Kíli only shrugged. He could deal with Thorin.

"So will your mother, I reckon," the stablehand added, raising an amused eyebrow.

Kíli's impish confidence wavered. Dís was another story.

"Well," he said, "then, as a member of the royal family, I forbid you to tell her that I'm out here." He smirked smugly, regaining his composure. There would be hell to pay, but at least he would get a few hours of riding out of it.

Bofur snorted. "Alright, Prince Kíli—at least 'til she overrules that."

"I'm a prince, she's a princ _ess_ ," Kíli pointed out. "Technically, by the laws, no matter how unfair they might be, I outrank her and my order will still stand."

"A mother will always outrank her son, even in royalty," Bofur said wisely. "On your own head be it, your Highness." He grinned, then stepped aside, knowing full well he was in no danger of discipline in allowing Kíli to escape. The punishment would fall squarely on the prince's shoulders.

Kíli, having no further retort, nudged his stallion forward, leaving Bofur behind.

* * *

When Kíli returned, it was suppertime. He'd spent a lovely day alone in the forest, even creeping close to the drooping, once-grand estate that resided there. He'd never found out who or what lived there, if anything did, and each time he ran across it in his journeys, curiosity sparked in him. One day, he would go explore it.

He changed from his riding clothes to his more formal ones, and joined his family for supper. He knew they would be very disappointed in him, and also likely angry, but it was probably worth it.

The meal was already nearly finished. Much to Kíli's surprise, Dís and Thorin spoke quietly with Duke Bard. The duke was one of Thorin's closest advisors, but still, he did not usually take supper with the royal family.

Fíli helped himself to seconds, eyeing the three of them nervously. Kíli strode into the dining hall, plopping himself down beside his brother. He ignored the dirty looks Thorin and Dís gave him, helping himself to a hefty pile of food.

"So, how have you been today?" he asked brightly, before shoving noodles into his mouth.

"The question is not how have _we_ been, it is where _you_ have been," Dís growled. Her eyes flashed, and Kíli quickly looked down, suddenly very interested in the contents of his plate.

He swallowed his noodles, then looked up at his mother with a shrug. "Oh, out and about."

"The stablehand Bofur told me that you'd run off into the forest," Dís said. "Kíli, do you have any idea how important this meeting you so casually skipped was?"

"It was just boring old stuff about the succession," he said dismissively. " _I'm_ not going to inherit, anyway, it's obviously going to be Frerin, so it doesn't matter to me, after all—"

"It's not going to be Frerin," Thorin interrupted him. "Frerin is a prince consort in another kingdom. He can't suddenly come back. And besides, him and Dís are both too close to my age to be my heirs." He shook his head. "By the time I die, assuming it's of natural causes, they'll be old, too. The council of nobles—and myself, as well—all agree that I should choose a younger heir." His gaze landed on Fíli, who sat in his seat, staring at his now-empty plate. "Since Frerin's children are in line for a different throne, that means your brother, Kíli. I've named him my official heir."

Kíli was surprised, but not too much. Thorin was right. Fíli was the obvious and best choice. He'd been groomed for this possibility all his life, and he would make a wonderful king.

"Alright, then," Kíli proclaimed. "Fíli's the heir. Problem solved! This still has nothing to do with me."

"Kíli, don't act like you didn't know this was coming," Fíli snapped. Shocked at his brother's tone, Kíli looked at him with wide eyes. "I _told_ you that you ought to come. You missed the whole discussion _and_ the pronouncement. Did you ever consider that I might have wanted you there? You're my _brother_."

"Fíli, I—" Kíli broke off. He hadn't really thought this through, he realized belatedly. He had no idea that Fíli would be named heir, truthfully, though he supposed that he should have. And now that Fíli was upset with him, as well as his mother and his uncle, he suddenly felt horrible.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, deflating.

Fíli heaved a sigh. He didn't say anything. Kíli knew that he would forgive him. They were very close and neither could stay mad at the other for very long. But Fíli would still be hurt.

Duke Bard watched all this family drama uncomfortably from his position beside Thorin. The king muttered something under his breath about the foolishness of princes, then cleared his throat to address them all again.

"That is not all, however," he said. "The matter of _my_ heir is settled, but the matter of Fíli's is not."

"Fíli doesn't need an heir yet," Kíli said with a frown. "He's barely twenty-two. You're fifty, Thorin, and you just picked yours."

"A fact with which the council has been displeased for years," Thorin informed him. "Which you would know if you ever decided to show up to the meetings, Kíli."

Kíli didn't say anything to that. He already felt guilty enough about missing this most recent one, and Thorin was right, after all. Ninety percent of the time, he always found some excuse to miss the council meetings, and if all else failed, he would simply run off into the forest like he had today.

"The council has decided that Fíli must not put the matter off as Thorin did," Dís explained. "He may not name you as his heir for the same reasons Frerin or I were unfit heirs to Thorin: you two are simply too close in age."

Kíli looked at his brother, who was still visibly upset. Fíli didn't meet his brother's eyes, but he said, "The nobles have all voted that I should marry within a year, in order to produce an heir."

"What?" Kíli exclaimed, horrified. Fíli had no desire to marry or have children. This was common to his family, though Kíli didn't think that he had told Thorin or Dís the reason: that he was aroace, and averse to the very idea. This explained why Fíli was truly upset and not simply annoyed that his brother had missed an important event in his life, and also why he was not pleased to have been named the Crown Prince.

"I told them I wasn't interested, that I could take my time as Thorin had, but they wouldn't listen," Fíli said dully.

"I understand that it's not what you would have chosen, son," Dís began, "but it is for the good of Erebor."

"It's not fair," Thorin growled. "I never married. I never had children. The right person never came along for me, and I had two siblings, both of whom had children. It all worked out for me. I tried to convince them to give it time, but they wouldn't listen. The nobles have power in our kingdom, and I must listen to them. I did manage to persuade them into giving the right to choose his bride, however."

Duke Bard coughed quietly, obviously feeling very intrusive on this family dinner. Kíli felt horrible; he wished he had been at the meeting now to argue on his brother's behalf. (And, also, he added, to spare Duke Bard from sitting through this awkward recounting of events he should have witnessed.)

"Fíli, I'm so sorry," he said softly. "I'm... You don't deserve this."

"Thanks," Fíli muttered. He seemed subdued, as if he had already accepted his fate, though anger and shock still hid behind his eyes.

"I hate to interrupt," Bard interrupted, "but his Majesty, her Highness, and I have reached a conclusion which will concern you, Prince Fíli."

"What is it?" Fíli asked, looking up.

"You must marry within the year," Bard said. "To speed up the process, it is King Thorin's idea to hold a ball, which shall be attended by all the eligible noblewomen. You shall then choose a bride from among them."

"A ball?" Fíli asked hesitantly. Kíli had been to balls before. They were great fun, if he was allowed to dance instead of simply observing. Fíli, however, found them incredibly boring and always left early. Well, not early, since he was always punctual, polite, and princely, but definitely as soon as he could.

"Yes, a ball," Thorin confirmed. "It will be held next month."

"Next _month_?" Fíli exclaimed.

"We thought you should get it over with quickly," Dís confirmed.

Fíli's face turned red. "When they said within the year, I thought that meant—" He took a deep breath in order to control his temper. "I thought that meant I had a year left of being by myself!"

"No, it meant you had a year to choose a wife, and if at all possible, to marry her before then as well," Bard explained.

Fíli stood up abruptly. "I am honored to receive my family's aid in hastening my doom," he snapped. "Good night!" He stormed out of the room.

"Fíli!" Kíli cried out, standing up and holding his hand out. The doors slammed behind him.

"There's no use in talking to him when he's like this," Dís said, exasperated. "I know it's not what he wants, but he'll get over it eventually. Perhaps he'll even grow to love the poor girl."

"You don't understand!" Kíli explained, suddenly growing angry on his brother's behalf. "You don't know what this—" He broke off, fuming. He wouldn't out Fíli without his permission, but it was absolutely out of line for his mother to say something like that.

"I'm going to go talk to him," he growled, turning to leave.

"He's mad at you, too, you know," Dís told him coldly. "You should have been there for him."

"Damn it, Mother!" Kíli shouted. "You think I don't know that? The least I can do is apologize and comfort him, which I can see _you're_ not doing!"

Before Dís—or Thorin or Bard, for that matter—could retort, he ran out of the room after Fíli.

As Kíli guessed, Fíli was in his room, crying on his bed. His curtains were closed to the setting sun and no candles were lit. He opened the door slowly, then walked up to him.

"Hey," he said softly.

Fíli grunted in response.

"I'm sorry about...everything," Kíli murmured. "It's not fair. And I'm sorry that I wasn't there. You have to believe me, Fíli, I didn't know any of this was going to happen or I would have come. I'm sorry for not thinking ahead and guessing what was coming."

"It's..." Fíli broke off. "It's not okay. I can't say that. But I know you didn't mean to hurt me."

"I would have fought for you," Kíli said. "I wouldn't have let this happen."

Fíli laughed mirthlessly. "There's nothing you could have done. It would have happened anyway. But thanks, Kíli."

"It's _so_ unfair!" Kíli exclaimed, his voice rising heatedly. "Thorin never married! You shouldn't have to either! Who _cares_ about heirs? There'll always be _someone_! What about our cousin Dáin, and his son?"

"I know!" Fíli agreed, sitting up a little straighter. "I shouldn't be confined to this! Kíli, I don't want to get married." He sounded desperate. "I don't want to pretend to be in love, I don't want to live a lie, I don't want to have sex, I don't want children—I feel sick just thinking about it! That's all for other people, not me!"

"You should have heard what Mother was saying," Kíli said darkly. "I mean, she doesn't know you're aroace, I don't think...she was all 'he'll change his mind eventually'. It was awful."

"I think I'll have to tell them," Fíli said miserably. "I didn't really feel the need before, but there's no avoiding it now. I hope they'll take it well."

"Me too," Kíli agreed. "Well, when I told them I was trans they were fine with it, and when I told them I was bi..."

"It's different for me," Fíli said bitterly. "I'm the _heir_. You can be whatever and it doesn't affect them. Me, though..."

"You were never the heir until now," Kíli pointed out.

"I was in all but title." Fíli snorted. "I knew this was coming since I was little. I was the obvious choice. I think I'll be a decent king, but I'll be an awful husband and father..."

"There's got to be _something_ that will change their minds." Kíli frowned thoughtfully. "I'm sure of it. Thorin didn't marry, what did he do?"

"Well, Mother had us," Fíli replied. "He could shift the heir-producing responsibility to her."

"Yes..." Kíli frowned, mulling it over in his head. Then, suddenly, it came to him.

"Fíli, I've got it!" he exclaimed, shooting to his feet. He turned and beamed to his brother. "Thorin had Mother—well, you've got _me_!"

Fíli looked at Kíli in surprise. Then his mouth opened slightly. "I...Kíli, I wouldn't want to force that on you—"

"No, no!" Kíli assured him. "I was always planning on getting married _eventually_. I wouldn't mind having kids, even if I would be the one having them and not whoever I marry. Frerin has kids and he's trans, there's no reason I couldn't."

"Well, yes, I know that," Fíli agreed, "but Kíli, it _is_ my responsibility—"

"Fíli, it may not have been what I was planning, but that's okay with me," Kíli insisted. "I'll do this for you."

Fíli looked at him with new hope. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Of course," Kíli said. "I love you, Fíli."

Fíli got up and embraced him tightly. "Thanks, Kíli," he whispered, his voice choked. "I love you, too."

Kíli hugged his brother back. When they broke apart, they both pretended not to notice as the other wiped tears from his eyes.

"Alright," Fíli said. "Are we going to tell them our plan, then?"

Kíli frowned. "I don't think we should do it right away," he said. "Wait a couple of days, at least. That way they'll know we've put some serious thought into it."

Fíli snorted. "Well, they'll think we did, anyway." He paused, then added, "And we'll have time if you change your mind. We won't rush into it."

"Oh, I won't," Kíli assured him. "But yes. We'll seem like responsible adults."

"We _are_ responsible adults," Fíli corrected him.

They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"Well, maybe we will be someday," Kíli said.

"Hopefully before I'm crowned king," Fíli agreed.

Kíli nodded. "Yes. Hopefully before then."


	4. The Rider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, it's been about four million years since the last update, but real life got in the way. Here's chapter 4, I hope you like it!  
> Content warnings: misgendering, deadnaming.

Tauriel missed the long-ago days of her childhood, not only for the memory of her parents, but for the servants the house of Silva had once employed. When she was a little girl, she had not had the chores she did now: scrubbing and cleaning and sweeping and all number of other tasks.

At first, after Thranduil had dismissed the last servant simply because they had no money to employ them anymore, Legolas had taken up most of the burden of keeping the manor clean. Xe had complained bitterly, and Thranduil, moved by his child's suffering, had ordered Tauriel to pitch in.

These days, many years later, Tauriel did most of the work. Thranduil was too busy scrambling to find ways out of debt to help out, and though Legolas had xir own chores, Tauriel proved to be the best worker.

The Silvan estate was much larger than Tauriel had imagined as a child. She knew each tile in the halls and washrooms and kitchens; she had befriended the steps of the winding staircase and every inch of wall; she became acquainted with each nook and cranny of the numerous bedrooms in the house.

For once, she was grateful for her tall, sturdy build, masculine as it was. She could reach the highest dusty corners and scrub the tile forcefully with her natural strength, amassed over years of labor. Legolas's slight, willowy figure was not built for this as she was.

"I don't know why lords employ cis women as cleaning maids," Tauriel complained to Legolas one night. "I'm much better at this than you, just for the way we're built."

Xe shrugged. "Cis people have a strange way of thinking, you know. To them, cleaning is women's work, so women had better do it."

Tauriel snorted. "If it's women's work, it's better I do it, then, instead of you."

"Well, that _is_ why my father had me do it at first," Legolas said. Xe grinned. "Frankly, I'm glad you're doing most of it now, though I do feel bad about leaving so much work to you. Gender roles aside, I hate cleaning."

"I don't really mind," Tauriel admitted. "It...distracts me from other things." Oddly enough, the thought of doing women's work, even if the premise of the concept was ridiculous and bigoted, made her feel less dysphoric. And it wasn't like she had much else to do but overthink the tiny things Thranduil did. "I do miss the days when we had servants, though."

"Those were the days," Legolas agreed. "Before Lady Arasseth died..."

"Before my father died, too," Tauriel said quietly. "I wish my parents were still alive. Silva was never a rich house, but we were better off before Thranduil..." She scowled.

Legolas shook xir head. "I wish my family was still alive, too. I'm glad I still have my father." Xe didn't quite meet her eyes. Tauriel felt a twinge of guilt. Legolas understood her dislike for xir father, but xe didn't like her talking about him so poorly. Xe loved Thranduil, even if she didn't.

"At least I have you now," Tauriel said.

Legolas flashed her a grateful glance. "Me too. There are so many things about my life that I wish were different, but you're not one of them. I'm glad to be your sibling."

"I'm glad to be your sister." Tauriel smiled, her heart warming.

"Father's glad to have you, too," Legolas said.

Tauriel's smile vanished. "Don't bring _him_ into it."

"You know, he really doesn't hate you," xe insisted. "He's...difficult, sure, but he—"

Tauriel snorted. "I don't believe you," she said flatly. "Perhaps he doesn't hate _you_ , but I think I know how he feels about me."

Legolas rolled xir eyes. "Fine! I just wish we could _all_ be family."

"Well, wish some more," Tauriel grumbled, crossing her arms. Legolas crossed xir arms in turn. Now they were both upset. Tauriel felt a little bad about it, but she stood by her beliefs. Thranduil forced the work of keeping the Silvan estate livable onto her, he never listened to anything she had to say, and she could not get over how he expected to sufficiently replace her parents.

She stood up. They sat in Legolas's room, relaxing in the evening after a hard day of cleaning and sewing; Tauriel doing the cleaning and Legolas the sewing. (Though could one call sewing hard work? Tauriel was bitter about this, though not with Legolas. That was Thranduil's fault, too, for forcing unwanted gender roles upon them and for giving her all the hard labor, as usual.)

"I'm going to go out in the forest," she announced. Technically, she was already in the forest, for that was where the manor lay, choked by vines and looking as though it was abandoned. Tauriel worked hard to make the inside livable, but not even Thranduil expected her to be able to make the outside look nice. Tauriel wondered if this was how peasants lived: working hard all day to no avail, left ignored and poor. If so, she was hardly a noble.

Legolas shrugged, pursing xir lips. She had offended xem. She fumed internally: xe _knew_ she hated talking about Thranduil. It was bad enough to live in the same house as her step-father, to share space with him and to eat with him and to take orders from him. Xe didn't have to bring him up in their personal time together. It was xir own fault this conversation had turned sour.

"Fine," Legolas said dully. Xe wrinkled xir nose. "You'd better ask Thranduil for permission. You know he doesn't like us wandering."

"He still sends you to the city every week," Tauriel grumbled. She had never been to the city, instead living her entire life inside the confines of the manor or in the forest between the two places.

"Just ask him." Legolas reached for a book. "Have fun."

"I won't," Tauriel told xem. She flounced out of the room, shaking her red hair. It fell about her shoulders. She wished she could grow it longer, so she would look more like a girl, but she knew Thranduil would never let her. The fashion in the city was for men to keep their hair long, but never as long as the women. His own hair was a more conservative cut about his ears, and he watched her slowly growing hair with disapproval. If only he knew she was a girl... But she did not want to share that information with him, not ever. If he believed her, he would only use it to further his control of her, and she doubted he would believe her, no matter what Legolas said.

She walked moving her hips in a feminine way, making her way downstairs and into the entry hall. As soon as Thranduil came into view, she stopped, walking straighter and firmer, like he expected her to.

"My lord," she greeted him stiffly. He hated it when he addressed her formally, so she always did it.

Much to her pleasure, she noticed him pursing his lips and narrowing his eyebrows in faint frustration. He looked much like Legolas when he did so.

"Caranon," he said, nodding. Tauriel felt the name hit her like a blow, but she made sure her expression did not change. She put up with misgendering and being called her dead name every day; though it hurt, there was nothing she could do about it.

"I wish to go into the forest," she informed him. "L—Síreth said I should ask you first." She cursed internally. Just like herself, Legolas was not out to xir father. She did not call xem by xir rightful name in front of Thranduil, and she was horrified at her slight slip up. With Thranduil, that could be dangerous. Tauriel thought it best he never know, though Legolas intended to tell him xe was nonbinary eventually. Still, that was xir decision and xir right to tell him, not hers.

Thankfully, Thranduil didn't seem to notice her mistake. "Caranon, as I've said before, there is no need to be so formal with me. I am your father."

_No, you are not,_ Tauriel thought fiercely. "I am sorry, Thranduil," she said out loud, her voice dull and monotone.

Thranduil sighed. "Fine," he said, shaking his head. "If you must be that way, my son, so be it. You may go into the forest—but don't go too far."

_I'll go as far as I want,_ she thought. "Thank you," was all she said, nodding her head to him. She turned away from him, walking away from him as fast as she could, which was just a little faster than was proper.

Tauriel loved the forest because it was empty. Once in awhile, she heard the distant thunder of hooves in the distance—probably riders from the city. She stayed well away from them, instead keeping to herself. She loved talking with Legolas (well, she did when xe didn't talk about Thranduil), but she liked to be by herself too. She could do that in her room, but she loved the wide, beautiful forest.

When she was little, she had climbed the trees in the lawns of the manor. Now those trees were either dead or overgrown, and they were too small for her to be comfortable in. Today, she wandered through the woods, looking for her favorite one: a great oak with a hollow halfway up just big enough for herself and a few trinkets she kept hidden there. This tree was her great secret. Not even Legolas knew about it.

When Tauriel reached the tree, she felt a rush of happiness. Now that the stresses of home were behind her, she could finally relax. She climbed the great trunk of the oak, scrambling over branches and up to her hollow.

Inside, the hollow was dark and comfortable. Years before, she had snuck out blankets from the manor, enough to make a soft bed for her to lie in. She smiled, curling up inside the trunk.

Her prized her possessions were strewn about her. Her mother's scarf, her father's pocketwatch, letters from her parents that she had received on birthdays and holidays, a picture she had drawn of her family when she was five years old, her favorite books.

She also had a simple skirt, stolen from a maid before they had all been dismissed. It was tight on her, but wearing it made her feel better. She slipped it on over her trousers and smiled. She didn't look anything like the noble girl she was, but this way at least she looked a bit more feminine.

She lay down on her blankets. Her thoughts scattered and she let her mind roam. She remembered years past, when her mother was still alive. She thought of Legolas, and a memory of xem laughing at a joke she had told resurfaced. Any thoughts of Thranduil were immediately pushed aside. She grinned at the idea of running away to the city, living a life anew, writing only to Legolas. She immersed herself in the smells and quiet sounds of the oak, heard the pounding of horse hooves not too far away...

She sat bolt upright. That was not part of her wandering thoughts—that was _real._ There were horses nearby, close to her tree!

Tauriel poked her head out of the hollow, looking down through the branches of the oak. To her surprise, a horse raced in her direction, following the old path to the mansion. She gasped, surprised. She had never seen one get this close.

Upon the horse was a rider, a short person in stately noble clothes. Tauriel thought they looked like a man, but she didn't want to assume. She knew how annoying that could be. They had hair a bit shorter than Thranduil's, cropped about their ears, but it was a dark brown unlike Thranduil's blond. The horse was majestic, pure black in color, and Tauriel admired it from afar.

The horse and rider rushed beneath her oak, ignoring her entirely. Part of her was disappointed they didn't notice her—it would have been very interesting, but she didn't think Thranduil would like it if she talked to a stranger.

Then again, who _cared_ what Thranduil liked? Tauriel giggled, amazed by her recklessness, and began to climb down the tree.

"Hey!" she called after the rider, trying to make her voice sound higher than it was. "Slow down!"

The rider shouted in surprise, pulling on the horse's reins. They wheeled the horse around, riding back to the tree cautiously.

Tauriel scrambled down from the hollow and draped herself over a low-hanging branch. She didn't want to land upon the ground. She may be reckless, but she was still cautious. Who knew who this stranger was, or what they wanted? It was safer to stay out of reach.

A branch brushed her face, much like the scratch of a razor. She winced and leaned back. She didn't like the feeling of razors on her face, even ones that were actually branches, though it was better than letting her stubble grow out. Thranduil kept a neatly trimmed golden beard, scattered with gray hairs, but she would never let herself grow any facial hair. Anything she could do to make herself look less masculine was welcome.

The stranger had some stubble of their own, but it wasn't more than a scruff. Now that they rode back to her tree, she could see that they had warm brown eyes and pale skin. Upon closer inspection, she saw that her first appraisal of them being a noble was most likely correct. They wore even finer clothes than Thranduil did, so they must be rich. She found them rather attractive, despite her caution.

The horse slowed to a stop, and the rider peered up at her curiously, their dark eyes bright. "What are you doing up there?" they asked in a tenor voice.

Tauriel raised an eyebrow, hiding the sudden waves of nervousness that overcame her. "What are you doing in the forest?"

The rider blinked. "Well—I'm allowed to be in here, am I not? It's not as if anyone lives here. It's royal territory, anyway, so that means it's basically mine."

"Oh, so you're royalty?" Tauriel asked. She didn't hide her suspicion. _That_ was hard to believe.

The rider laughed. "I'm surprised you don't know me by sight. I ride through the city all the time. Yes, I'm royalty. Prince Kíli, at your service—" He glanced at her skirt, then finished with a hesitant, "—madam?"

Tauriel felt a flush of joy. Legolas was the only one who ever validated her gender, so to hear that word from a stranger made her feel elated. "Yes, I'm a girl," she confirmed. She waited for the prince to say something rude about how she didn't look much like one besides the skirt, but he seemed to accept it. That simple fact made her trust him, and she slipped down from the branch to meet him.

In turn, he dismounted from his horse. "What's your name?" he asked. Tauriel looked down to him and almost laughed. She towered over him, and their height difference seemed almost comical.

"I'm Tauriel," she told him. She smiled. "And you're Prince Kíli, supposedly." She looked him over. His clothes certainly fit the bill. "I didn't know princes were allowed to wander by themselves."

He shrugged and smiled in a way he probably thought was dashing. She thought it was funny, and a little cute. She stifled a giggle.

"I'm not like most princes," Kíli continued. "My brother, now, he's too responsible to just run off, but I like to run on the wild side."

He winked at her, and this time she really did laugh, letting out a deep guffaw. As soon as she began, she stopped, mortified. She had laughed at the prince, which was probably a punishable offense, and that deep laugh of hers didn't sound anything like a stereotypical young woman's delicate giggle.

Prince Kíli's face fell. "Alright, maybe that was a bit ridiculous, but you didn't have to laugh."

"I'm sorry, your Highness," she said, bowing her head.

"Hey, you don't have to be formal," he protested, leaning back against his horse. Somehow when he said it, it seemed to be actually out of a desire to make her feel welcome, unlike Thranduil's stiff attempts at familial bonding. "Sure, I'm a prince, but it's not like we're in court or anything. You can just call me Kíli, and the laughing's no big deal, I promise."

He didn't seem to question her laugh, so Tauriel hesitantly nodded. "You're not at all what I expected of a prince."

"If you want expectations, go talk to my brother Fíli," Kíli said. He smiled, sincerely this time. "Though he'd probably still be nice and polite to strange girls he meets in the forest. Well, actually, he wouldn't be out here in the first place."

"Is he here, too?" Tauriel asked, glancing around. If one of the princes was here, perhaps the other one wouldn't be far behind.

"Nah," Kíli said, shaking his head. "I mean, he _is_ riding in the forest, but he stayed with the Duke and the King."

"The _king_ is in this forest?" Tauriel exclaimed, shocked. And here she had been thinking she was alone!

"Well, yeah, but they're about half an hour away," Kíli explained. "I wanted to wander alone. I actually asked this time, so Thorin let me go."

"So you don't usually ask, then?" Tauriel asked.

Kíli shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed. "I ride in the woods a lot. It's nice to get away from the stress of the palace, and it's a good way to skip council meetings." He pulled a face. "After what happened _last_ time I skipped a meeting, though, I think I'm better off attending, no matter how boring they are."

"What happened last time?" Tauriel was curious now, and his easygoing nature made her daring.

To her disappointment, Kíli clammed up at that point. "I'd rather not say," he admitted, not meeting her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "It was rude of me to ask."

"No, no, it's fine," Kíli assured her. "It's just...a bit personal. Just know that it didn't end well for anyone." He laughed hollowly. "And that was only a couple of days ago." He looked at her curiously. "Okay, now it's my turn to ask all the questions. What are you doing out here, Tauriel?"

After being called Caranon by Thranduil all the time, hearing her true name was music to her ears. She smiled, then answered, "This is my tree. I go here when home gets too stressful. Which is a lot, actually."

Kíli nodded. "I know that feeling." He frowned. "So...your home must not be far from here, then."

Tauriel hesitated. "Yes," she admitted. "I live not too far from here."

Kíli's eyes widened. "Do you live in that shambly manor down that path?" he asked, sounding excited.

"Yes," she agreed, "but how did you—"

"I ride by here all the time!" he exclaimed. "It's a wonder we've never met before. I always wondered what was in that place. And _you_ live there!"

"Tauriel!" a voice called in the distance. Tauriel scowled. That was Legolas. She didn't want to go, not after such an exciting conversation with Kíli.

"I'd better go," she said reluctantly. "That's my sibling. And, uh—I don't live alone, just so you know. My step-father has a nasty attitude, so I wouldn't go sneaking around here anymore."

"But then I'll never see you again!" Kíli protested, his brown eyes wide. He reached out and grabbed her hand. She looked down at him in shock.

"So?" she said. "I'm a nobody."

"You're so much more fascinating than anything I'd ever thought to find in that old manor," he explained. "I don't want to just let it all go, I've wondered about that place for years!"

"Well, you can find something else to wonder about," she said firmly. Butterflies danced in her stomach, and her heart beat quickly. His brown eyes and his touch were doing strange things to her. She thought it best to leave now and never see him again, however exciting and wonderful this meeting had been.

"Tauriel!" Legolas called again.

"Please go, Kíli," she urged.

Kíli looked up at her, his eyes solemn. "Very well. Goodbye, Tauriel. It was a delight meeting you. And—I'm sorry if I overstep, but you are quite beautiful."

"I'm not even..." she began. She flushed. "I'm sure you can tell, but I'm...transgender."

"Well, so am I," Kíli said brightly. "I've been called a prince so long people have forgotten they ever used to call me princess, but I'm still trans."

Tauriel stared at him, belatedly remembering that Legolas had once mentioned that Prince Kíli was trans like them. She didn't quite know what to say to that, but Kíli was still smiling at her.

"I'm just trying to say, that doesn't stop you from being beautiful," he said softly. "If anything, it can mean you're _more_ beautiful." He grinned. "It's part of what makes me so dashing, after all. I'm brave, and so are you."

Tauriel stared at him. What a wonder this prince was! She found herself liking him far more than she ought to, and that only frightened her more. She _really_ ought to leave and never see him again, for her own good.

Kíli leaned down and kissed her hand. "Farewell, beautiful Tauriel," he said quietly. At last, he let go of her hand, and she felt her palm tingle with the memory of their touch. He mounted his horse and nudged it into a trot, staring over his shoulder at her until the path turned a corner and he disappeared into the forest.

Tauriel stared out after him for a few moments, then ascended back into the tree, took off her skirt, and left to find the sibling who was calling for her.


	5. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Here's chapter 5. We're going to be getting to the ball soon!! Ahh! :)  
> Content warnings: transphobia, arophobia.

"We should tell them," Fíli said.

Kíli frowned. "Now? It's only been a week, you know."

"Well—yes," Fíli said. He shook head. "But Kí, I can't stop thinking about that ball, and what comes after it...It's crept into my nightmares!" He shivered. It was true. Only last night, he had dreamed of a crowd of well-dressed girls with sharp teeth descending upon him and locking him in a cage. It was a ridiculous fantasy, but it betrayed his true fears.

Fíli's only solace was in his brother's selfless sacrifice. He and Kíli hadn't yet told their mother and uncle about their plan, but Fíli still felt incredibly grateful.

"Okay," Kíli agreed. He seemed reluctant, and Fíli felt fear creeping upon him. What if Kíli backed out? What if he changed his mind? "I just thought maybe a bit more time would help, but if you want to, we can do it tonight at supper."

"Kíli, do you really mean it?" Fíli asked. "If you change your mind—I mean, I don't want to force you into—"

"No, no," Kíli assured him. "I'll do it, Fíli, I'll get married. I was enjoying my freedom while I still had it." He grinned. "But hey, marriage doesn't sound too bad to me. I get more status, money, a pretty spouse, _and_ Thorin and Mother will stop bemoaning how irresponsible I am!"

Fíli breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever Kíli saw in marriage, he saw only a trap. Love, sex, children—even things like sharing a living space made him uncomfortable. He was more than happy to let Kíli take that burden, even if he didn't understand why it was at all appealing.

"Well, Thorin and Mother already know I'm responsible," Fíli joked, "so we're both winning here."

"Let's tell them, then," Kíli agreed.

* * *

 

"Mother, Uncle," Kíli began, "Fíli and I have something to tell you."

Across the dining table, King Thorin furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

Fíli glanced at Kíli. "Well," he began, "we've been thinking about that ball."

"We're not cancelling it, if that's what this is about," Dís said, frowning.

"We know that," Fíli assured her. Kíli might have insisted on trying to get rid of the ball entirely, but Fíli knew that would never work. Once Thorin and Dís made up their minds about something, there was no changing it. But he could convince them to alter their plans slightly—and Fíli was good at that sort of persuasion.

"We just think it's so unfair for Fíli to be forced into a marriage he so clearly doesn't want!" Kíli burst out. (Kíli was not so good with tact and diplomacy, though there were certainly times where blunt honesty came in handy.)

"My sons, there's no avoiding it," Dís said. She sounded tired, and Fíli didn't blame her. He was tired, too—but this was still worth fighting for. His future was on the line.

"Okay, but you don't need _me_ to get married," Fíli pointed out. "You just need to have an heir, right?"

"Yes, but you have to get married first," Thorin said. He frowned.

"I don't," Fíli said. "What if _Kíli_ did, instead of me?"

Thorin and Dís stared at them uncomprehendingly.

"It's just—Mother had us, so you didn't marry, Thorin," Fíli pointed out. "Kíli agrees—he could do it instead of me!"

Thorin and Dís continued to stare.

"Come on!" Kíli exclaimed. "This is better for everyone!"

"Well—son—" Dís began. She looked away awkwardly.

"It's just—we did consider this, but we didn't want to pressure you," Thorin explained.

"No pressure necessary!" Kíli said brightly. "I came up with this idea all on my own, just ask Fíli!"

Fíli nodded. Hope filled his chest—if that was all that was stopping them, he would be free from this heavy responsibility easily.

But the uncomfortable looks on Dís and Thorin's faces made him pause. Evidently, that was not the only concern.

"That's wonderful, Kíli, but...Fíli would be looking for a _bride_ ," Dís said. She hesitated, then continued, "You, well—the point of this is to produce an heir. You and your bride, well...you couldn't. You're..." She huffed a sigh, then blurted out, "You're trans."

Kíli turned bright red. Fíli scowled at his mother, appalled.

"I'm okay with having my own heir," Kíli snapped. "Look—just because I'm trans doesn't mean I can't have kids! How can you say that when _Frerin_ has children? He's your _brother_!"

"That's fine for younger siblings with no responsibility for heirs," Thorin said, "but Kíli—you'd be having the heir." He didn't meet Kíli's eyes. "Besides...Frerin married a man."

"I could marry a man!" Kíli protested. He looked very uncomfortable with this discussion, and his objections were strained and unhappy.

"Besides," Fíli cut in, jumping to his brother's defense, "there are trans women, too, if it must be a bride and not a groom." He glared at his mother and uncle. "We've thought about this. We know what it entails. You're being unfair to Kíli now, not just me. We want to _try_!"

"Yes," Kíli agreed. "Come on—this is better for everyone!"

"Why can't you just marry someone, Fíli?" Dís snapped. " _I_ didn't marry for love, you know, but I grew to love your father all the same."

"Mother, I'm—" Fíli took a deep breath. "I'm aromantic. And asexual. I literally cannot love someone that way. I don't want to be forced to try or to fake it. I don't—I _can't_. Or even—I'm horrified at the thought." Now he was the one who was blushing. Before now, he'd only told Kíli of this.

"Oh, Fíli..." Dís trailed off, her expression softening.

Thorin bowed his head. "Boys, I'm sorry."

"Please!" Kíli exclaimed. "Let us—"

"I wasn't finished!" Thorin interrupted. Kíli fell silent.

"I'm sorry we've treated you this way," he explained in a softer voice. "It was...unfair of us not to take your personal feelings into consideration."

Dís opened her mouth as if to protest, but she changed her mind and closed it.

"If we had known, Fíli, I would have tried harder to prevent this situation," Thorin said.

"And—Kili," Dís said, her voice gravelly, "I'm sorry for being insensitive. Your choices are yours to make, not mine, and...I shouldn't have assumed things."

Kíli flinched and didn't quite meet her gaze.

"What about _my_ choices?" Fíli asked, subdued.

"You're still my heir," Thorin said, "and the council will not change their minds. You have an unfortunate responsibility."

Fíli's shoulders sagged. He felt his doom closing in around him. He had been so _close_ to escaping marriage, only for his chance to be snatched out of his grasp at the last moment. It wasn't fair. He felt tears budding in his eyes, and he looked down at his lap in defeat.

"Fíli," Dís said, "this is hard for you, I can tell. And—I'm sorry. I understand now, but..."

"But it doesn't have to be this way!" Kíli cried out. He slammed his fist on the table. Next to him, a fork jumped, and several plates and cups rattled with the force of the impact. "We have a solution!"

"The council won't like it," Dís warned.

"Who _cares_ about the council?" Kíli snapped. "I am perfectly happy to marry so Fíli doesn't have to! The _heir_ is what matters, right?"

Thorin and Dís exchanged a pained look. Thorin turned back to Fíli and Kíli and sighed.

"So your idea is to host the ball in honor of Kíli instead of Fíli?" he said.

"Yes," the two brothers said at the same time. Fíli smiled at Kíli, and Kíli winked back.

Thorin glanced to Dís. She pursed her lips.

"You're not seriously considering this?" Dís asked. She sighed and turned her exasperated face to the ceiling. "You're so _stubborn_ , Thorin!"

"Boys, your mother and I need to talk about this," Thorin said firmly. He glanced at Fíli. His eyes were wide and sympathetic. "It's an idea. We'll tell you our answer tomorrow evening."

Tomorrow evening? Fíli squirmed uncomfortably. That felt like ages away, with his future on the line. But it was better than nothing. He exchanged a look with Kíli, then nodded.

"Okay," he said. He stood up and turned to leave.

"Thank you," he heard Kíli say.

Kíli caught up with him just outside the dining hall.

"Well, that could have gone better," he grumbled. He ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. "I love Mother, but..."

"Yeah," Fíli agreed heavily. "She can be...pretty tactless."

"That's an understatement," Kíli said. He shook his head. "Well. At least they're talking about it. I think Thorin wants to let us do it our way—he's just got to convince Mother."

"And the council," Fíli added.

Kíli waved a hand. "He can get around them. Mother's the only one who really counts."

Fíli raised an eyebrow. "Well, we can hope."

* * *

 

The next evening, Fíli and Kíli showed up early for dinner. They ate together in silence as they waited for Thorin and Dís to come. Fíli was sick with nerves and only picked at his food. Kíli's anxiety manifested in hunger, so he wolfed down several helpings before their relatives sat down at the table.

When Thorin and Dís finally did show up, Fíli was so nervous that he jumped as the door opened.

"You're late," Kíli observed, shoveling yet more food onto his plate.

"From what the servants tell us, you were early," Dís countered.

They sat down at the table and began to eat. Kíli finished off his plate, then joined Fíli in staring at them.

"So?" Kíli asked after a several minutes.

Fíli clenched his fists as Thorin finished chewing and swallowed.

"Dís and I have spoken about your suggestion," the king began. "We are in agreement."

Fíli forced himself to breathe as Thorin continued, "We think that your plan is worth a shot."

Kíli clapped his hands and turned to punch Fíli on the arm in excitement. Fíli grinned, letting himself finally relax after a long and stressful day.

"It's going to be difficult to pull off. But I can't bear to think of you so unhappy, Fíli..." Dís shook her head. "Bard won't like it. His artists have already begun making the posters."

"Posters aren't a big deal," Kíli said dismissively.

"And it will be an easy fix," Thorin agreed. "Your names are very similar."

"I can't even begin to think of what the council will say," Dís said.

"I'm _king_ ," Thorin said. "The council can only control me so much. Besides, they're still getting what they want."

"Yes," Dís agreed. "But they were very much set on the heir being Fíli's child. And though they might agree to add Kíli's availability, I doubt they'll let Fíli off the hook entirely."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fíli asked.

Thorin nodded. "She's right. The ball will still be thrown, and though you might not see it that way, Fíli, you're still available. Ladies and princesses will flock to the palace to try and win your hand, and they might not even remember Kíli."

"Hey!" Kíli protested. "I'm just as handsome as he is!"

"More handsome," Fíli said. He elbowed his brother playfully.

"But if Kíli doesn't find a suitable partner at the ball, you might still need a wife," Dís explained.

Fíli frowned. He didn't like the sound of that.

"I want you to be happy, Fíli," Dís continued, "and I think this is worth a try. But it might not work—and the kingdom _does_ need an heir. The council will throw a fit at our changes, and will be unlikely to change their minds on anything else for a decade." She rolled her eyes. "Nobles can be so stubborn!"

"So can royals," Kíli muttered.

Thorin raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling. Then his grin faded, and he said seriously, "Dís is right. It might not work. And if we're going to do it this way, I need you to promise to fulfill your duties if things don't happen the way you want."

Kíli nodded slowly. "It _will_ work," he assured Thorin, "but okay. Just in case."

"I'll do what I must," Fíli said. "I accept the possibility I might have to marry. It's better than the inevitability." His gut twisted at the thought, but he was getting his chance. He could accept the consequences if it went wrong—and hearing that he had agreed to this would make the council of nobles more inclined to be flexible.

"You'll be a good king, Fíli," Thorin said softly. "You're a good prince. And you too, Kíli."

"I try," Kíli said modestly.

Dís rolled her eyes, but even she was smiling now. "I love you, boys," she said.

"I love you too, Mother," Fíli murmured. He was nervous about the coming ball, but a slim chance was better than none. He was safe—for now.


	6. Before the Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would apologize for how long it takes me to update this fic but since it's getting to be a regular thing I guess I'll make it official: I'll probably update once a month. Hopefully.  
> Here's the next chapter!! Things are finally getting going!! Thanks for reading!!  
> Content warnings: misgendering

"What about this one?" Gimli asked, holding up a piece of cloth. "Do you think this would go well with that hat my mother loves?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "That hat is purple, Gimli. Purple and orange don't match."

"I don't know," they said. They stroked their red beard. "I think it might."

"You know, if you really love that color, your mother can wear something else with it," Legolas said. Truly, xe thought that shade of orange was hideous, but Gimli and their family had strange tastes.

"True." Gimli put the orange cloth into their basket. "I'll ask if they've got any more in this color."

"Why does your mother want a new dress, anyway?" Legolas asked, following xir friend through the shop. "She's got plenty."

"Well, the ball's coming up," Gimli said. "Didn't you hear?"

"Ball? What ball?" Legolas asked.

"A royal ball!" Gimli proclaimed, their eyes sparkling. "The king wants to find his princes some wives, so he's holding a ball."

"Oh," xe said. Xe was not as excited by this process as Gimli was. Xir father was bound to try and get xem to be the new spouse of one of the princes, a prospect that made xem feel ill.

"But—you're not a noble family," Legolas pointed out. "Why would your mother be going?"

"She's a widow," Gimli explained, "and she'd like to remarry."

"Yeah, I know that," xe said, "but—"

"There are plenty of unmarried noblemen at the court, and while she'd never snag one of the princes—she's far too old—she might catch the attention of someone else." Gimli smirked. "And she's friends with a countess, who can get her in."

"Are you going?" Legolas asked.

"Nah." Gimli shook their head. "Not if I can help it. I don't like big events."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Really." Xe wasn't convinced. The Gimli xe knew was all about "big".

"Well, maybe sometimes," they admitted. "But I've got a Guild meeting that evening."

As the two of them left the store, Gimli having made their purchase of enough orange cloth for their mother to make a dress of it, Legolas couldn't stop thinking about the ball. If xe just didn't tell xir father, maybe xe wouldn't have to go. It would be that simple...

"Are you going? To the ball, I mean?" Gimli asked.

Xe sighed. "Probably," xe admitted. "I don't think my father knows about it, but he's bound to find out eventually. When is it, anyway?"

"Mmm, a week from now, I think," they said. "Mama's very excited. She hasn't been to a noble function in a while."

Gimli and their mother were merchants, well off, but not nobles by any mark. Their father had died a few years previously, and now their mother, Glóin, was ready to remarry. It was all she ever talked about, those times when Legolas was allowed to come up from xir home in the woods and visit xir friends and pick up supplies for xir father. This was one such time. Having run xir own errands already, Legolas was now accompanying Gimli on theirs.

"If I'm going, I wish you could, too," Legolas grumbled. Xe smoothed xir dress out, feeling a twinge of unease. What if the prince actually did like xem and wanted to marry xem? Of course, that was highly unlikely, but it wasn't like xe would have a choice in the matter if it came to that. Going to the ball would be bad enough, but getting married because of it would be even worse. Xe didn't know much about the princes, but they were probably no good, even if one of them was trans.

"Hmm, well, it would be fun," Gimli agreed. "Though your father would probably be shocked out of his fancy pants if he ever met me!"

Legolas laughed. Gimli was a stately young merchant and a rising member of the weaver's guild, but they were also a cheeky nonbinary who wore both a beard and a dress and had an attitude twice their own height. Thranduil would be quite confused by them, and especially by how they had come to be friends with his child.

"He would," xe agreed. "Sometime I may want to shock him like that, though." Not under xir current circumstances, though, xe thought grimly.

"Well, I'd be happy to give him a bit of a fright one of these days." Gimli grinned. "What about your sister? Do you think she'd like me?"

"Oh, Tauriel would love you." Legolas smiled. "I don't think she'd be going to the ball, though. You know neither of us are out to my father."

"The ball is for everyone, though," Gimli said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure she could make up some excuse to come."

Xe thought of the strained relationship between Tauriel and xir father. "Well, maybe."

* * *

 

Legolas didn't mention the ball to xir father for four days. Xe couldn't bring xemself to tell him, but eventually it slipped out at dinner one night.

"A ball?" Thranduil exclaimed. His eyes lit up. "When is this?"

Gimli had said "a week from now". "I don't know," Legolas said. "Three days?"

Thranduil's eyes widened. "Three days?" he exclaimed. "Síreth, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Legolas didn't meet his eyes. "I guess I just forgot."

"But this is excellent news!" he proclaimed. "You know I've been looking for a husband for you. Silva is in such disrepair that no one wished to marry you, but if you could catch the prince's eye—you could be a princess! A queen! We'd be saved!"

Legolas made a face. "I think we're fine as we are. I don't need to get married."

"Don't be ridiculous, Síreth," Thranduil scolded xem. "This is best for all of us—even you, Caranon."

Across the table, staring at her plate, Tauriel flinched. "Of course," she said, her voice flat.

Legolas scowled. Why didn't she just try to warm up to Thranduil? Sure, he wasn't exactly flexible in his ideas about people, but he was trying to be a good father. Even if he wouldn't listen to xem, it wasn't as if he wanted xem to be unhappy. He just had a different idea about xir happiness. This annoyed xem, and even frightened xem when Thranduil took action along these lines, but it was no cause to hate him.

"Tomorrow morning I am going into the city to find out about this ball, and I must find you another dress, Síreth," Thranduil announced. "The gods are smiling upon us—this is our one great chance!"

"If—if Síreth is going..." Tauriel paused. Legolas and Thranduil turned to look at her. "...Might I be able to come?"

Thranduil stared at her for a few moments, then he burst into laughter. "What for? You couldn't marry Prince Fíli."

"It's for Prince Kíli, too," Legolas added. Was it xir imagination, or did Tauriel stiffen at the mention of the younger prince?

"I would like to meet some of the other nobles," Tauriel explained. "I've met so few—and if Síreth is to marry Prince Fíli, perhaps it would be good for the rest of our family to..." She saw the amusement in Thranduil's face and trailed off.

Legolas felt a surge of bitterness toward xir father. He was mocking her, when the concern she posited was a truthful and reasonable one! If their relationship was mangled, it was not solely Tauriel's fault, xe had to admit. Thranduil did his damage, too.

"It's a nice thought, but I think not," Thranduil said, smirking. "A good joke, though, Caranon. Perhaps at some other event—but not this ball."

"Of course," Tauriel murmured, her voice flat and cold once more.

* * *

 

"So. The great ball." Legolas smirked. "The dance of the century. Too bad you're going to miss it."

Xe and Tauriel sat together in her room after dinner that night. Tauriel moodily picked at the lint on her well-worn trousers. She didn't meet xir eyes.

"Yeah." She pulled off a particularly large ball of fluff and threw it on the ground. "Mm. I'm going to have to clean that up tomorrow."

Legolas grunted. Xe was troubled by xir father's pronouncement, and xe was frankly jealous of xir step-sibling.

"I wish I could miss it, too," xe said. "I mean—I probably won't marry the prince, no matter what my father says, but the threat is there. And I'm not exactly fond of dresses, either, and this will call for a monster of one."

"Yeah..." Tauriel seemed moodier than usual. Legolas frowned, worried for her.

"Are you alright?" xe asked.

"Yeah...yeah," Tauriel said. She flashed xem a weary smile. "I'm just...I wish our places were switched. I'd love to go to the ball, to get out of the wood and into the city...And I'd wear that dress for you in a heartbeat."

Legolas felt a flash of sympathy for her, and suddenly felt awful about being so envious of her position. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean—"

"You're fine, it's just—Thranduil," she growled. "He's so—argh!"

Back to this again. Legolas took a deep breath, trying to calm xir imitation. "Well...maybe try talking to him about it."

"He wouldn't listen." She scowled. "It would just make him angry."

"Try explaining yourself," xe urged. "He's not unreasonable, he just doesn't understand."

"Well, I can't tell him the real reason why I want to go!" Tauriel protested. "I can't say it's because I met—" She turned pink. "He doesn't know I'm a girl, anyway. And why would one of the princes want to marry a boy? But that's not all why, I want to meet people. You know people, you have Gimli and your other friends in the city. I only have you. And I love you, Legolas, never think I don't, but I want to know more than just this tiny corner of the world."

Legolas had the feeling that she wasn't telling xem quite the entire story, but xe knew she was right about the rest.

"If you could go in my place, I'd let you," xe said. "But you can't. You can only go as you—as Tauriel. So you don't tell him everything, but you tell him enough."

Tauriel frowned. "You really think it would work?"

"It won't work if you don't try," Legolas pointed out.

She frowned. "Maybe I will talk to him." She gave xem a sidelong look. "But don't be surprised if he says no."

* * *

 

"So how did it go?" Legolas prompted, watching as Tauriel rushed back into her room. Her face was flushed, but xe couldn't tell if it was from anger or excitement.

"He said I could go!" she exclaimed.

"Wonderful!" Legolas said, clapping xir hands. "Too bad you couldn't wear a dress—unless—" Xe paused, lifting an eyebrow. "If you tell him, I'd do it with you."

Tauriel looked tempted for a second, but her face soon set in a stubborn expression. "No. I'll go in menswear. It's okay."

Legolas nodded. It was her choice, and xe didn't feel quite ready, either. It was probably better to act with care rather than on impulse. "Yeah, it's probably too late to change his mind about my dress, too," xe murmured. "So he just gave in that easily?"

"Well—no," Tauriel admitted. "We had a bit of a row. Didn't you hear me shouting?"

Legolas smiled. "So that's what that was."

"But he gave in eventually," she continued. "More to shut me up than anything, really. He said I could go, conditionally—if I do all your chores from now 'til the day of the ball and find something suitable to wear, I can go. I don't think he actually thinks I will do it—or that I can do it—but he's wrong." She grinned.

Legolas nodded. "You can do that." Xe was admittedly, a little pleased by this news: that meant less work for xem. Still, xe felt a little bad about the task xir father had assigned her.

"I can help," xe offered. "Really, I'd be glad. I don't want to go by myself."

"No, I can do it on my own," Tauriel insisted. "If Thranduil finds out you're helping me, he may say it doesn't count. It's not in the spirit of me doing your chores, anyway."

"Alright," Legolas said slowly. "But if you need anything—any help or favors I can do outside of that, I'd be glad to do something."

Tauriel smiled and gave xem a quick hug. "Thanks, sib," she whispered. "I appreciate it."

* * *

 

Each night, Tauriel collapsed into sleep after a long day's hard work. Legolas wished xe could help, but Tauriel wanted to fulfil her promise to Thranduil herself. Instead, Legolas helped by picking out and hand-repairing a suit for her: looser than the usual fashion, so it might not be too masculine for her, and in a rich purple that would make her red hair shine like fire.

The day of the ball arrived all too soon. Legolas spent all morning preparing, letting xir father doll xem up in a lovely pale blue dress. It was so tight around xir waist that it made xir head spin. Under Thranduil's careful supervision, xe curled xir hair and powdered xir face, making xem look like a stereotypical young noblewoman.

When he was done, Thranduil showed xem what xe looked like in a mirror. Legolas stared at xemself and thought xe was looking at an entirely different person. The dress emphasized xir lean figure and xir bust, and every piece of xir image looked entirely wrong. Xe wasn't sure if it was the tight corset xe wore or the dysphoria, but xe found xe could barely breathe.

"You look beautiful," Thranduil said, his voice soft and emotional.

Xe swallowed back tears and nodded. Xe couldn't bring xemself to say anything.

"As soon as Fíli sees you, he'll fall in love," Thranduil said, gripping xir shoulders and smiling. "And you'll love him, too—I've heard he's well-spoken and considerate. You'll be a queen, Síreth—a queen!"

Legolas didn't know what felt worse: Thranduil's dress or his words. Both were so very wrong, so very assumptive about xem. Xe would never fall in love, not like that—and certainly not with a man like Prince Fíli. Xe was aromantic, and if xe was ever to love anyone, it would be in a way Thranduil didn't understand, and it would probably be Gimli. Well, or someone.

"Well, I hope I have fun, anyway," xe murmured, forcing a smile onto xir face.

"Let's go!" Thranduil proclaimed. "I rented a horse and carriage just for the occasion."

"I told Caranon I'd help him get ready," Legolas said, frowning.

Thranduil pursed his lips. "I told him to do it while I was getting you ready. He should have been doing that already."

Legolas hurried out of xir rooms and over to Tauriel's. She wasn't there. Shrugging, xe went downstairs.

Thranduil stood in the hallway, dressed in his finest clothes. He looked shabby compared to Legolas, but he was doing his best. He stood with his hands on his hips, eyebrows raised, lips pursed: he was staring at Tauriel.

She wore the suit Legolas had fixed for her. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, not pulled back like Thranduil's. She had dressed herself as femininely as possible while still appearing as Thranduil expected her. Her shirt hung loosely past her waist, and her leggings gripped her figure. Legolas wasn't sure, but xe thought she was wearing a bit of face makeup—subtle, but emphasizing. She smiled hesitantly, and she looked faintly glowing. Legolas smiled, xir heart welling up with love. She was beautiful.

Thranduil, however, was not impressed.

"You're wearing...that?" he said scathingly. "You might as well go all out and put on a dress!" He laughed at the idea, and Legolas felt a surge of aner. He didn't know the damage his words were doing, but he really ought not to say such things—and why, oh why, was he so harsh on her?

Tauriel's face fell. "I'm sorry—" she began, not even trying to fight him.

"Síreth, let's go," Thranduil said, turning away. "Maybe another time, Caranon."

Tauriel's mouth flopped open. "What?" she demanded. "I'm—I'm not going?"

"Not like that, you aren't." Thranduil snorted. "I'd be embarrassed to call you my son and heir! This ball is about Síreth and her chance at being queen. I'll introduce you as Lord Caranon some other time—after the engagement is sealed, and then I'll be the one to dress you up."

"But—I did all my chores, and Le—and Síreth's too!" she protested. Legolas's heart jumped as the first syllable of xir name slipped out. Luckily, Thranduil didn't seem to notice.

"No, Caranon," Thranduil said, mockingly patient. "Now goodbye. We'll see you tomorrow morning. We'll be getting home after midnight."

Tauriel was visibly crying now. Legolas's heart ached for her, and xe wished xe could speak up against xir father, but it would only make things worse.

"I hate you," Tauriel spat, turning tail and running up the stairs.

"Tau—Caranon!" Legolas called, trying to comfort her, but xe stumbled over xir words, and Tauriel was gone.

Thranduil scoffed. "That boy, I swear." He shook his head, turning toward the door. "I don't know what I'm going to do with him."

Legolas didn't say anything. Xir heart was hollow. Xe wished Tauriel was coming with xem—or that xe could be with Gimli.

"Come, Síreth!" Thranduil called back. "Our carriage is here!"

Wishing with all xir heart that Tauriel could go in xir place as the happy daughter who went to marry the prince, Legolas turned and left with xir father.


	7. Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Hopefully the next update will come before the end of the month. I'll have more time to write over winter break.  
> This chapter was fun to write. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

From her window, Tauriel watched the carriage ride away from her and the dusty old mansion she'd been trapped in her whole life, and all her frustration and disappointment boiled into rage. Furiously, she flung her door open and raced down the stairs and out into the forest. The woods would be there for her, even when Legolas wasn't.

Her nice dress clothes tore as they caught on branches and rocks. Holes ripped into her loose, flowy shirt and branches cut through her leggings and grazed her skin. She didn't keep to a path, instead running blindly toward her tree.

She climbed the branches and collapsed inside her hollow and collapsed on her knees. No tears escaped her eyes; instead, she shouted and banged her fists on the walls of the hollow. Her prized possessions flew everywhere and the tree shook with her rage.

It wasn't _fair_. It wasn't fair that after all her hard work, she could not go to the ball. She had so yearned for the opportunity to escape the mansion, to meet people other than her family, and (if she was being honest with herself) to meet Prince Kíli again. Legolas did not even _want_ to go, and yet xe was dressed up in sickeningly gorgeous clothes and trotted off as Thranduil's most prized possession, his bargaining meat for a last chance at glory.

Deep down, she knew this was unfair and that Legolas was surely hurting just as much as she was, only in silence. But right then, she didn't especially care.

This was all _Thranduil's_ fault, she thought vehemently. She ought to run away from his awful rules and oppressive spirit, but she could never leave her sibling.

Thranduil... She slammed her fist against the tree. She _hated_ him. He never listened, he never considered she might just be something other than what he wanted to her be, he didn't respect her or Legolas! He had forced his child to go to this ball, he didn't care what anyone other than himself thought.

She would _never_ let him take her pride from her, not even after being humiliated like this. She would never let him see who she really was, she would stay strong and figure out a way to defy Thranduil and take her life for her own. If she could. At this point, after yet another failure, she didn't see any happiness in her future.

At last, Tauriel's anger slowed and melted into tears. Crying was cathartic, if not comforting, and helped her to accept her new reality.

She had been foolish, she knew, even to hope for a chance of escape. Legolas had not understood her desire to go to the ball, and she didn't blame xem. It was exactly the sort of thing xe despised: overly romantic scenarios, large crowds, and the need for xem to pretend to be more feminine than usual.

But Tauriel liked that. The opportunity to dress and act differently, to meet new people, and to be free of Thranduil for even just one evening in a place that _wasn't_ her room or her tree would have been a dream come true.

The chance to see Prince Kíli again would be exciting. She had liked him more than she cared to admit, even to herself, and she had been ridiculously excited to meet him formally, even if in all likelihood he wouldn't remember her. And the possibility that she could marry the prince, though highly unlikely even if Kíli _had_ met her once in these very woods, was a dream: she could be _free_. And if the royal family allowed one of their own to be openly trans. They might even allow her to be as well. To be seen as the woman she was, by the whole kingdom...even the idea made her feel giddy.

Her clothes were strange and she felt insecure in them, but even in their masculinity she felt better than in normal clothes. But now, after her ultimate failure, she hated them. She tore her nice leggings off her legs and kicked off her shoes, ruining them totally by throwing them out onto the forest floor. Inside the hollow, she scrabbled for her maid's skirt and donned it.

She still felt awful. Clothes could only do so much after a night like this.

Night had fallen. The moon, rising high into the sky, shone into her hollow. A cool night breeze stirred the branches of her tree. It was summertime, but Tauriel found herself shivering.

"I wish I could go to the ball," she whispered. "And not as Lord Caranon—as _me_. As...Lady Tauriel."

The light of the moon seemed to fill the hollow, glowing brighter and brighter until Tauriel squinted and peered out of her hollow.

She gasped. Someone stood beneath her tree, glowing brighter than any star.

"Come down, dear," a warm voice invited her.

Tauriel leaned out of her hollow with wide eyes, trying to see the person better before she decided to leave the relative safety of her hiding place. Suddenly, she lost her balance and screamed, tumbling from the hollow to the forest floor.

She landed with an undignified thud, sprawled over leaves and branches, her skirt splayed about her face. Turning red with embarrassment, she scrambled to her feet and pushed her skirt back down where it belonged.

The glow about the person dimmed until Tauriel could see them properly. In her view stood a tall gray-haired woman, clad in a loose bluish-gray dress. She held a gnarled staff in one hand and a weathered gray hat in the other. There was a twinkle in her eyes and a smile upon her face as she looked upon Tauriel.

"Who—who are you?" Tauriel asked, frightened by this strange woman's mysterious appearance.

"I am Gandalf," the woman said, bowing to her. "Your fairy godmother."

For a moment, Tauriel stared at her. Then she started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Gandalf asked, putting her hat upon her head. She leaned on her staff, an eyebrow raised. "Is it my dress? I could appear as a grand queen in a fancy gown, if it would please you." For a split second, her gray robes disappeared, replaced by an elegant multi-colored dress. Then her original clothes returned. "But I prefer this. It is far more comfortable."

Tauriel continued to laugh, her amusement and the stress and fury of the evening muddling into one. Soon her guffaws were mixed with tears and great, shoulder-shaking sobs.

"I don't know why I'm laughing," she cried. "It's not funny! You're..." She hiccuped, trying to get herself under control. "It's just, after all this time and work I thought I might have something good for once, and then I didn't, and now _you're_ here, some stranger in a funny hat, and you say you're my fairy godmother. What does that even mean? Why would my parents choose _you_ as godmother?"

"Your parents never knew me, Tauriel," Gandalf replied.

"Then why are you here?" she demanded. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. "And how do you know my name?"

"I watch over the youth of this world, and I am godmother and guardian to all who do not fit the mold of their assigned gender." She smiled. "I'm like you, too. The gods didn't quite understand when I first told them I was a woman, but they've grown used to my gender—and my personal oddities—over the millennia. Transgender children are the ones who need my guidance and help. Who do you think it was who led you and Legolas together?"

"Then you brought Thranduil into my life as well!" she exclaimed.

"He would have come, regardless. It was I who watched over Legolas, making sure xe survived the fire that killed xir family. I knew you would both need a friend and a sibling in the troubles to come." Gandalf sighed. "It is unfortunate that your step-father is...the way he is. But he is more open-hearted than you think."

Tauriel snorted. "Sure. You sound just like Legolas."

"Your step-sibling loves xir father," Gandalf said. "You can grow to love him, too. But it will be an act of coming together. He will have to work for it, too, and there must be honesty in all your family."

"As a protector of trans children, surely you must know I can't come out to him," Tauriel said.

Gandalf spread her hands. "Maybe. There are those in this world who truly are evil and hateful to us, but I do not believe Thranduil is one of them. Give him time."

"I've _given_ him time," she growled.

"He doesn't _know_ ," Gandalf said. "He doesn't know about either of you. You cannot blame him for what he does without seeing the whole picture."

Tauriel rather thought she could, but she could tell that much like Legolas, Gandalf would not be convinced. "How do you know all this, anyway? Are you one of the gods?"

Gandalf laughed, a deep sound that shook her whole body. Tauriel watched her intently, jealous of the ease with which she carried herself. She didn't seem self-conscious of her laugh at all, and it sounded much like Tauriel's own ugly guffaws.

"I am a servant of the gods, that is all you need know, dear," Gandalf explained. "I follow their rules, on occasion, but I break and bend them just as often. I have my own reasons for doing what I do."

That had not really answered Tauriel's question, but she didn't know what to say to that.

"Why are you here, Gandalf?" she asked.

"To take you to the ball, of course!" Gandalf exclaimed. She raised her staff, the blue gem set into the top glowing faintly.

"What?" Tauriel exclaimed. "But..." She trailed off, hope blossoming within her. "Really? I could go to the ball?"

"As Lady Tauriel," Gandalf said, smiling gently. "Just as you wished."

Awed, Tauriel bowed her head. "Thank you, Lady Gandalf," she whispered.

"Don't 'Lady' me, I'm just your wise and magical godmother," Gandalf said. She patted Tauriel's head, then turned to look critically at her staff. "Now...it's been awhile since I've used this old thing. Usually, I stick to meddling with people's fates and letting them handle their own situations with a little help, but..." She shrugged. "There's three of my children mixed up in this tale, and after your step-father's good graces failed me, I had to step in myself."

" _Three_ of us?" Tauriel exclaimed. "But who—"

"Now, don't get excited, dear," Gandalf scolded her. "You'll find out soon enough." She tapped the stone in her staff, and it flickered until it shone. "Now, step back! I need some room to work!"

Tauriel scrambled backward, running into her tree. She watched with wide eyes as Gandalf raised her staff, lifting her face to the heavens. She cried out in a loud voice in some ancient language that Tauriel did not understand: " _Bibbidi! Bobbidi! Boo!"_

There was an apple tree not far from Tauriel's tree. In the spring, the apples grew large and golden. Now, in the summer, they had begun to fall, overripe, to the ground. A stream of magic shot out from Gandalf's staff and swirled around one such fallen apple.

The fruit swelled, its stem lengthening and twisting about itself. It rose into the air as the magic affected it, growing beyond the size of any apple and even larger than Tauriel herself. The winding stem split and dipped down beneath the apple's bottom, twisting into circles. As Tauriel watched, the apple no longer looked anything like an apple. Doors and windows formed, and the flesh of the apple turned into the walls of a hollow carriage.

The apple-turned-carriage landed gently on the ground only a few feet from the road that wound through the forest. Tauriel gaped, looking from the magnificent creation to its beaming creator.

"What..." she began, but words failed her.

Gandalf winked at her. "Well, you must have some means of being taken to the ball!"

Her eyes wide as saucers, Tauriel grinned. This was incredible! She had never imagined such magic could exist, let alone that she could witness it! If Gandalf could turn an apple into a carriage—why, she could turn Tauriel's ratty skirt into a magnificent gown! She could make her look like a beautiful woman, worthy of marrying the prince!

"Of course, I'm not done," Gandalf assured her. Tauriel's heart swelled with hope. She clutched at her skirts, hoping beyond hope that her godmother would fix up her appearance.

Much to her dismay, Gandalf seemed unconcerned with that. "Now, a carriage is useless with nothing to draw it," she informed Tauriel. She cast her eyes round about, until her expression brightened. "Ah! Of course!" She raised her staff again, repeating her strange incantation: " _Bibbidi! Bobbidi! Boo!"_

This time, four separate streams of magic shot from the staff's crystal, swirling through the air and landing in different corners of the wood. At first, Tauriel couldn't tell what Gandalf had caught this time, but soon four spiders danced in the air, swelling and morphing their eight tiny legs into four strong ones.

She repressed a scream. She _hated_ spiders, and made Legolas kill them whenever she saw one. But these spiders were no longer spiders—they were great black horses, frightened and confused, but attached to her carriage.

Gandalf walked up to the horses, patting each of them on their flanks until they relaxed. "Now, get ahold of yourselves," she said sternly. "This isn't permanent, you'll be back to spinning webs soon enough!"

She turned back to Tauriel. "Aren't they gorgeous? But I'm not done yet!"

Tauriel smiled and straightened, ready for the magic to turn on her. But instead, Gandalf looked critically at her tree.

"Now, you need someone to drive the horses for you," she said. She stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Well, what do you say, good sir?"

"What?" Tauriel asked, confused. Was she talking...to the _tree_?

"For an old friend?" Gandalf asked. "Please, you'd be back to your normal self soon enough."

Was it Tauriel's imagination, or did the branches of the tree sag a little?

"Why, thank you, sir," Gandalf said, smiling as if she'd won an argument. She looked to Tauriel and winked. "Your tree has agreed to help you. He is very fond of you. And I'd never turn anything into a human without asking permission first."

She raised her staff again and repeated her incantation, this time adding a little more onto it: " _Salagadoola, mechika boola—Bibbidi! Bobbidi! Boo!"_

A torrent of magic swept toward the tree. Tauriel jumped away from it, not wishing to get caught up in that particular spell. Right before the magic hit the tree, birds and other small creatures exploded from the branches, fleeing from the spell.

The tree, unlike the apple and the spiders, shrank as the magic affected it. Its leaves retreated, its branches wound into limbs, and Tauriel's hollow all but disappeared as it formed the human's mouth. Before Tauriel's very eyes, her tree morphed into a human, clad in stately black court clothes. He was a tall, brown-skinned man with a mournful gaze and a wild beard not even Gandalf had tried to tame. In his arms he held Tauriel's prized possessions.

He set Tauriel's belongings down onto the ground, then stood up slowly, blinking. "Lady Tauriel," he rumbled in a deep voice. "Hello. I hope you do not mind that this is to be a brief meeting. I prefer being Treebeard the Tree to being Treebeard the...Human."

"Hop on that coach seat, now, good fellow," Gandalf said. "You're really helping out, thank you so much."

Treebeard nodded to Gandalf, then turned to walk slowly to his seat.

Tauriel giggled. A squirrel clung to his back with wild eyes.

Gandalf tutted. "Now, what is this?"

The squirrel squeaked and ran up on top of Treebeard's head. He grunted and lifted it off his head. The squirrel writhed in his grip, but Treebeard didn't let it go.

"This is your own fault, little sir," Treebeard informed it. He offered it to Gandalf, who took it from him with a stern expression.

"If you are so excited to be caught up in magic spells, perhaps you can do me another favor," Gandalf said. "Lady Tauriel also needs a footman, if we wish to be proper."

The squirrel froze, then shook its head violently.

"Please, friend," Gandalf said. "I can always turn you into something far worse than a human, and far less permanently."

The squirrel froze again, reconsidering. Tauriel giggled despite herself. Then the tiny creature slumped in Gandalf's grip.

"Very good," Gandalf said agreeably. "Now... _Bibbidi bobbidi boo!_ "

She tossed the squirrel in the air, and the magic caught it. It squirmed and squeaked as its body changed. Soon its squeaks became shouts, and it appeared as a bright-eyed, red-haired young man in a similar uniform to Treebeard's.

He landed on his rear end beside Treebeard, a grumpy expression on his face. "I...don't like this," he muttered.

"You do not have to like it," Treebeard said.

"If he's Treebeard, what's your name?" Tauriel asked. She offered a hand to the young man. He took it and she helped him onto his feet.

"Feren," he said. "At least, I think so." He glanced at Gandalf. "Lady, what does a footman do?"

"Open doors and look grand," Gandalf said. "It's not difficult. I gave Treebeard the harder job."

Treebeard nodded. "But you have also helped me know how to do it." He walked over to the carriage and sat on the coachman's seat.

Feren bit his lip, then walked over to the carriage. He flung the door open. It hit him in his face and rebounded to slam shut again. He cried out in pain.

Tauriel smiled. "Maybe get a little bit of practice."

"Now, I believe that's all," Gandalf said, smiling at Tauriel. "You'll have a wonderful time, my dear. I have all sorts of plans for you."

"But, Gandalf..." Tauriel began.

"Yes?"

She gestured to herself. "I thought you would make me look beautiful before I went."

"Ahh," Gandalf said, realizing what she had missed. "Tauriel, my child, you are already beautiful. But—I suppose a ball gown would not go amiss."

She raised her staff, smiled, then proclaimed for a final time: " _Bibbidi! Bobbidi! Boo!"_

Tauriel raised her arms as the magic swirled around her. She could feel its power, but it did not change her into anything or alter her appearance. Instead, it worked itself upon her clothes.

When the magic had finished and vanished, Tauriel wore a dress unlike any she had seen before. It was a sheer, pale, green, sparkling with jewels both dazzling white and deep emerald. It was large in the fashion that gowns were these days, but not so poofy as the beast Thranduil had clad Legolas in.

Tauriel had no bust, but somehow that didn't matter in a dress like this. Still, her chest appeared fuller than before in the slightest manner, though that was probably the effect of the corset she was now bound in. She hardly felt it, other than her improved posture; she was certain this was a factor of Gandalf's magic, as Legolas's complaints had assured her they were incredibly hard to breathe in.

A necklace sat upon her throat, many-chained and jeweled with a bright green emerald. Bracelets wrapped around her wrists, silver and white. Her hair was loosely curled, dropping about her ears, and she felt a lightweight tiara resting upon her head.

Tauriel gasped, overwhelmed by her sudden change in dress. She looked herself over, then frantically searched for mirror or water or anything in which she could see her reflection.

Wordlessly, Gandalf conjured a mirror from her robes. Tauriel took it with shaking hands.

She stared. She was speechless at the changes: she could scarcely tell that she was the same person.

But...there were certain, small things. Her trembling smile, her soft green eyes, the fiery color of her hair, blazing even more against the cool green of her gown. This was _her._

A strange feeling washed over her. Tears budded in her eyes, and warmth filled her chest. This was who she ought to be, and it _was_ her. She was Lady Tauriel—and, as Gandalf would say, she had been this way all along. The dress just helped to show it.

She smiled at Gandalf, unable to speak. Her fairy godmother took back the mirror and embraced her warmly.

"Go, now," she said. "The princes await your coming. You'll be fashionably late—or perhaps your being late will begin the fashion—but you mustn't miss the ball entirely."

"Thank you," Tauriel whispered.

Gandalf let go of her. "Now, there is one thing I must warn you of," she said. "The gods let me do as I please, as long as I play within their rules. None of this is permanent—one night of magic only. All will be as it once was at the stroke of midnight, save for your memories and the consequences of your actions. Your dress, your carriage, the horses and your new friends—all will be forest creatures once more. That leaves you with..." She glanced at the rising moon, visible in the spot where Treebeard had once stood. "...four hours."

"This is more than I ever dreamed," Tauriel said. "I need no more time than that." She stepped forward, walking toward the carriage, then stopped as she realized she was barefoot.

"Um—Gandalf," she said. "My shoes?"

"How could I forget?" she exclaimed. "This needs no incantation, not for something so simple." A flash of magic: Tauriel wore glass slippers, large enough to fit her feet, but elegant and comfortable.

"A finishing touch." Gandalf nodded approvingly. "And small enough to count as a souvenir. _Those_ won't disappear like the rest—the gods won't notice something that tiny." She smiled, tipping her hat to Tauriel. "Now go, my daughter, and remember that though you may never see me again, I am always watching over you."

"Thank you," Tauriel said again. She took a deep breath and walked toward the carriage.

Feren opened the door, properly this time, and Treebeard lifted the reins to the horses. She climbed into the carriage and the horses started moving, carrying her from the forest road toward the palace in the distance.

Behind her, Gandalf waved. Tauriel leaned her head out the window and waved back, excitement overcoming her: she was going to the ball!

Tauriel blinked, and suddenly she was waving at nothing. Gandalf had vanished.

"Where did she go?" she wondered aloud.

Feren, who sat across from her in the carriage, shrugged. "I have no idea. I don't know what's going on." He glanced nervously around the carriage. "I much preferred being a squirrel."

"This is so exciting," Tauriel breathed. "I'm going to the ball! I'll get to meet the princes!" _Again,_ she thought, _at least in Kíli's case._

The carriage rode into the city, and Tauriel stared out her window excitedly. People bustled in the streets, and she wondered if Legolas's friend Gimli was among them. She had never been here before, at least not in her memory. This was a night of firsts.

All too soon, and yet not soon enough, the carriage arrived at the palace. Tauriel shook, but whether it was with fear or excitement, she couldn't tell.

"We are here, Lady Tauriel," Treebeard called from his position in the driver's seat.

Tauriel nodded. The journey had been short, only a matter of a few minutes. She wondered if that was part of Gandalf's spell, too.

Feren stood before her and opened the door. He bowed to her as she stepped out of the carriage and beheld the palace for the first time. It was a magnificent building, larger than she could even comprehend.

"Have a wonderful time, my lady," Treebeard said.

"I think the prince will like you," Feren told her. He smiled for the first time. "I know I do. If he won't marry you, can I?"

Tauriel laughed and touched his cheek. "You're a squirrel."

Feren shrugged. "I don't mind."

"You're sweet, but no thank you," Tauriel declined. "I don't think either prince will wish to marry me, especially if they found out who I really was, but..." She smiled, turning toward the palace entrance. "I would love to dance with Prince Kíli."

"I'm sure he will love to dance with you, too," Treebeard rumbled.

Tauriel flashed a smile at him, then stepped forward, walking across the courtyard and to the grand palace doors. Her night of magic had only just begun.


	8. For the Dancing and the Dreading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I know the title's not funny but I love HTTYD and I couldn't not include a pun!)  
> There are a lot of characters introduced in this chapter, but most of them will only be here for the ball. I decided that Erebor consisted of all the characters who were dwarves in canon, plus Silvan realms like Lothlorien and Mirkwood, and surrounding Mannish places like Dale and Lake-town. Also, I mentioned Dori, Nori, and Ori came from Aglarond, which is the Glittering Caves, but only because I wanted a dwarvish name for their place of origin, not because I they have any connection to Aglarond in canon.  
> Nori and Thorin Stonehelm are both nonbinary in this fic; Nori uses they/them pronouns and Stonehelm uses ve/ven/vir/virs/virself neopronouns. I felt bad for what I did to Nori in my Space AU, [Infinity](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8222560/chapters/18844960), that I gave them a better role in this fic. (Also if you like this fic you should totally check out Infinity, it's got Kiliel and nonbinary Kili and SPACE!)  
> The ball will be four chapters long; this is only the beginning!  
> Content warnings: Since this chapter is from Fili's POV and Legolas is closeted, xe is misgendered and deadnamed the whole chapter. Also some internalized arophobia from Fili, though he recognizes it, and plenty of well-meaning but annoying amatonormativity.

The sound of trumpets rang through the air as fanfare announced the arrival of the royal family. The doors to the grand ballroom swung open to admit them. Already, a small crowd of nobility and upper class merchants were gathered around the doors, eagerly awaiting the princes.

Fíli felt sick to his stomach. He marched beside his brother, the two of them on the heels of King Thorin and Princess Dís. Though his guardians smiled and waved, and even Kíli managed nods to the crowd, he could scarcely even bring himself to grimace.

The ball was about to begin. Thorin and Dís sat on their thrones, leaving Fíli and Kíli to stand regally as the crowd slowly filtered into the ballroom.

Everyone was dressed their finest for the momentous occasion. Kíli wore a blue doublet and a roguish smile, the handsome younger prince set on winning hearts tonight. Fíli had put on a gold-cream doublet, to match his golden hair.

There were so many _ladies_ , Fíli realized as he scanned the crowd. Young ladies, noblewomen of marrying age. Here to marry _him_. Too many of their greedy eyes were fixed on him. Hardly any spared a glance for Kíli.

There were others among the crowd than just noblewomen: merchants, men, older people, and more. But they looked less interested in him than the women, and it was the ladies and what they wanted with him that scared him.

This plan could still fall apart. He could still end up married and trapped and forced to do his duty. More likely than not, Kíli would have to marry a man, if the plan was to succeed, and there weren't many men of marrying age among the crowd. The odds were not good.

Thorin raised a hand for silence. The crowd, chattering with excitement, fell silent.

"Thank you all for coming today," he rumbled. "My heirs are honored by this occasion in which to find a spouse, and I and my sister Dís are grateful for your aid." He smiled there, and a polite chuckle ran through the crowd.

"And now, I must thank Duke Bard for his assistance in organizing this event, and all of the Nobles' Council for proposing the idea..." An edge crept into his voice. "...and for their enthusiasm in their duty to the crown and its heirs."

Fíli glanced at his brother, a wry smile barely visible on his lips. That was as close to open disapproval of the council's decision that Thorin would get.

Thorin continued on, detailing the schedule of the night's events as the sun slowly set outside. Kíli raised his hand to his mouth to cover a polite yawn, earning amused whispers from the crowd. Fíli slowly began to relax. Now some of those eager eyes were on Kíli.

To ramble in importance was Thorin's style; he would have carried on until the sun rose the next morning if he had been allowed. But a subtle nudge from Dís and a polite cough from Duke Bard brought him at last to the close of his speech, and he announced in a booming voice, "Let this presentation begin!"

Fíli had been privy to many meetings on the organization of this ball. He knew all about the drinks to be served, the number of servants required to staff such an event, and everything about the royal band down to the size of their boots. But somehow, it had slipped his mind that before the dancing part of the ball would begin, the necessary presentations of every attendee would have to be thoroughly accomplished.

This meant a herald's introduction of every last person who had shown up to the ball, and would require him and Kíli to endure a (hopefully brief) conversation with each of them. All the while, Thorin, Dís, and Bard would melt into the crowd and pleasure themselves with fine wines whilst half the nobles and merchants in all of Erebor tried to flirt with him.

Fíli took a deep breath and braced himself for a long evening. Then the herald called out the first names: "Lord Dori of Aglarond, and his siblings Lairde Nori and Lady Ori!"

Dori, a stately graying nobleman, nodded warmly to the princes as he and his younger siblings approached. Fíli was acquainted with all three of them. Dori was a friend of his mother's, and Lairde Nori was infamous for stealing people's hearts, among the theft of other things. Nori was nonbinary, a smooth talker, and ten years older than either prince, but they were still unmarried and eligible for marrying Fíli or Kíli.

Fíli thought that Lady Ori was the most likely marriageable candidate of the Aglarond family. She fell between him and Kíli in age She was on the shyer side, and known as a sweetheart throughout the court. Today she wore a frilly pink dress and a shy smile, curtsying deeply to the princes.

"Your Highnesses," Dori said, puffing out his chest. "Have you met my siblings before?"

Kíli nodded and smiled. "Yes, Lairde Nori was a good friend to me when I was younger."

"Oh? Really?" Dori said. He glanced at Nori in surprise.

"Mhm," Nori confirmed with a wink at Kíli. "Sometimes my his Highness needed an ear in court that wasn't cis, after all, and I was there to listen. Nothing scandalous at all, brother dearest, and I've no intentions of making it so!"

At this both Kíli and Nori laughed, though Dori looked thoroughly flummoxed. Fíli had known about his brother's friendship with Nori, though he'd practically forgotten about it. Fíli did his best to be a good brother, but he couldn't do everything. Nori being kind to Kíli helped.

Ori smiled, looking a bit nervous. Fíli nodded to her. He didn't want to encourage any advances from her, but it did no harm to be polite. Then he glanced back to Nori.

"I take it you're not interested in marriage, then, my lairde?" he asked.

Nori shook their head. "No, but Ori here is." They nudged their sister gently.

"Well..." Ori trailed off, blushing. She looked at Fíli sidelong. "I would enjoy a dance with you later this evening, your Highness."

Fíli forced a smile. "I would be honored, my lady."

"I'd love to dance with you as well," Kíli piped up, smiling to her with considerably more warmth. "A lovely lady such as yourself is sure to be busy, though, so I'll be happy to wait my turn."

Dori clapped his hands. "Excellent!"

"Thank you, your Highness," Ori said, looking at Kíli in a new light. Fíli's heart lifted as the attention was drawn away from him. "I will certainly remember."

The three siblings drifted away, and the herald called out the next name.

"Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien!"

Up walked a magnificent older woman with golden hair and a shimmering white gown. She was graceful and poised, and even princely Fíli felt awkward standing before her. Galadriel was, however, an influential member of the Nobles' Council, and for all her beauty, Fíli was forced to remember that this ball had been in part her doing.

"I hope you are enjoying yourself, Prince Fíli," she said in a voice as smooth as silk. "Have you met anyone of interest yet?"

"We'll see," Fíli replied, nodding.

"We shall," Galadriel agreed. "I myself am looking for love this evening. After my husband's tragic death last year, I need the warmth of a companion by my side."

"I wish you luck in your search," Fíli said, wondering what warmth someone could ever want besides that of a blanket.

"And I in yours," Galadriel said. She nodded to Kíli, barely acknowledging his presence, then moved on to speak with Bard and Thorin.

The next nobles to arrive were Lords Balin and Dwalin, two of Thorin's stuffiest advisors and old friends of the royal family. Fíli and Kíli had grown up with them and were quite fond of them despite how insufferable they could be when discussing politics. Dwalin especially had been the champion of the boys' young hearts, for he had always had sweets on him. But there were no hidden treats today, only encouraging words.

"At least they spoke to me," Kíli murmured as the next person, Lady Feren, approached. "Galadriel barely acknowledged I existed!"

Fíli would have responded had Lady Feren not arrived at that moment. Feren was dressed in deep purple, and her gaze was as sharp as her long fingernails. She, too, seemed to have eyes only for Fíli.

"Thank you for this ball, Prince Fíli," she purred. "I am having an excellent time."

"Thank Duke Bard," he said indifferently. "Or my brother. They both had more say in the ball than I did."

Feren pouted, put off by his rudeness. "Well, I hope you'll save a dance for me."

"I shall," he said, dreading the prospect.

"She's after your title," Kíli assessed as she retreated. "Just wants to be Queen someday. Don't marry her."

"With luck, _you'll_ be the one doing the marrying," Fíli reminded him.

"Count Beorn!" cried the herald.

Beorn was from a distant land, ambassador to Erebor from his people. He was huge and hairy, and he looked awkward in a doublet. Fíli usually saw him wearing a huntsman's clothes, and when he wasn't discussing politics, he was out by himself in the forest.

Beorn was surly and didn't speak to them for long. Fíli could tell he wanted to be at this ball almost as little as he did.

The next two names were unfamiliar to him: "Lord Thranduil of Greenleaf and Silva, and his daughter, Lady Síreth!"

Thranduil fawned and bowed to the princes, then once again completely ignored Kíli in favor of showering Fíli in compliments. Had he not quickly shoved his daughter's eligibility to the focus of the conversation, Fíli might have thought that Thranduil was the one interested in marrying him.

Síreth was a few years younger than him, with hair as golden-silver as her father's. But she did not share Thranduil's enthusiasm, and flashed Fíli an irritated glance as her father babbled on.

From Thranduil's overeager conversation, Fíli gathered that even though Thranduil lorded over two noble houses, he was poor and in need of noble connections. If this was all he wanted, Fíli didn't know why he was ignoring Kíli, especially because the younger prince was paying far more attention.

Síreth eventually managed to drag her father away, shaking her head apologetically. Fíli smiled at her. She wasn't half bad, especially since she wasn't trying to seduce him.

The next people to be introduced were three sisters, Ladies Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin. Haldir was oldest, and Rúmil and Orophin looked to be identical twins.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Haldir said, nodding to Fíli. "I hope you find the right wife for you tonight, your Highness." She smiled at him for just a second too long, and Fíli knew that she wanted that wife to be her.

"And you too, Prince Kíli!" Orophin added. She winked at him. "Don't think we've all forgotten you, you're just as handsome, and twice as funny." She shrugged to Fíli. "Meaning no disrespect, your Highness."

" _I_ think you're both funny, if it makes you feel better," Rúmil said.

Kíli laughed and kissed her offered hand. "You three are all lovely. I especially love that necklace, Lady Orophin. I hope you'll remember me later tonight on the dance floor!"

"Oh, we _will_ ," Orophin assured him, touching her hand to her necklace.

"That was very smooth," Fíli murmured as they left. "You like them, then?"

"Oh, they're all quite beautiful," Kíli said. "I don't know about marrying them, though—I'll have to see as the evening goes on. And I'm not so rude as to inquire about heirs in public."

Next was the first merchant to be introduced, a Master Óin. He was a plump, bearded man who greeted them eloquently. He seemed only interested in business, and spoke of money and flowers (evidently he was a florist) and if perhaps Fíli or Kíli might think of him when preparing for a wedding.

Right behind Óin was his sister, the red-haired Mistress Glóin. Also a merchant, she winked at the princes like an old friend instead of a commoner and promised that the next time they saw her she'd be married to a noble.

"Forgive my mother, your Highnesses," said a red-bearded person clad in a dress so outrageously green that Fíli thought it ought not to be allowed. Evidently they were Glóin's child, Gimli, another merchant. "She's overeager. But I would like to see our fortunes improve." They raised an eyebrow, realizing what they had just implied. "Not that I wish to marry either of you fine lads." They grimaced and added as an afterthought, "Your Highnesses."

Fíli didn't wish to marry them either, and so he took no offense, but Kíli looked a little disappointed.

"They were clever, and rather good-looking," Kíli murmured as they herded their mother and uncle away. "I might have considered them."

"A merchant?" Fíli asked. "Sure, it's technically allowed, but think of what the Council would say..."

"True," Kíli admitted, "but it might have been worth it."

"Duke Dáin of Ironhill, and his child Lairde Thorin Stonehelm!" the herald cried.

Fíli broke into a genuine smile. He loved seeing Dáin, a cousin of Thorin and Dís. Ironhill was in the outer reaches of the kingdom of Erebor, so Dáin did not often visit, but he had brought his child along to the ball. Thorin Stonehelm had been named after Dáin's favorite cousin and the king, and when ve had realized ve was nonbinary, ve had decided to keep the name, for King Thorin was vir favorite cousin, too. But ve was called "Stonehelm" by most of vir friends, and only went by "Thorin" with vir immediate family and in public.

"Stonehelm!" Kíli cried, beaming. "How are they treating you down in Ironhill?"

"A cis man insulted my honor and sensibility last month," Stonehelm drawled, "and I taught him a lesson on the practice courts that he will not be soon to forget."

Kíli laughed. Fíli grinned as well, proud of ven. Ve was only sixteen, but already better than most in combat. Ve would be a fearsome warrior someday.

"Dáin, it's good to see you here," he greeted his cousin.

"We stopped by to see you boys get married!" Dáin said, grinning. "Or at least engaged. So you _both_ decided it was time to get a spouse, hm?"

Fíli forced a smile. "Well, not exactly."

Stonehelm caught his eye and gave him a sympathetic smile. Ve was one of the few people besides Kíli that Fíli had trusted with the knowledge that he was aroace, so ve knew what was making him so uncomfortable.

"Sounds like you've got a story to tell," Dáin said with a wink. "Well, I'll get it out of you sometime, but you're busy now. Good luck, my boys!"

"Yes, I hope you find what you're looking for," Stonehelm added. Ve nodded to Fíli and shook Kíli's hand, then ve and vir father went on their way.

Next were two siblings: young Lord Bain and his older sister Lady Sigrid, two of Duke Bard's children. Bard's other child, little Tilda, had apparently stayed home for the ball. Bain, eighteen years old, blushed and fumbled his sentences, seemingly both attracted to and in awe of both princes. Sigrid, however, was more bold and confident, smiling to Kíli with grace and then asking Fíli if he would like to dance later that night.

After he assured her he would with the most enthusiasm he could muster, she and her brother left. The herald cried out the next two names, and Fíli groaned. There was still at least twice as many people as they had already talked to waiting to speak with the princes.

Kíli looked just as bored as he was. Every time they met someone about their age, Fíli was careful to watch his brother and see if there was a "spark" between him and the other person. Kíli did seem interested in a handful of people, but often he was completely ignored in favor of the crown prince. And neither of the princes knew if the person Kíli would fall for would meet the requirements Thorin and Dís had agreed to.

Fíli was beginning to give up hope. While it had been a good idea, it looked as if Kíli getting married in his stead wouldn't actually save him from his doom. Fíli's mood sank lower and lower.

As the evening wore on and at last he and Kíli had met every person who desired to speak with them, the dances began. Kíli's first dance partner was Lady Ori; Fíli was set upon by Lady Feren.

Soon people were dancing all about them: out of the corner of his eye, he saw a stony-faced Lady Síreth hand in hand with his cousin Thorin Stonehelm. Beside them danced Lady Orophin and and Lairde Nori. Even the adults were enjoying their time on the dance floor; Lady Galadriel had been charmed by Mistress Glóin, and Dís was on the arm of her cousin Dáin.

At last, Fíli managed to shake Feren off him and began to dance with the others who had asked to dance with him: Lady Ori, Ladies Haldir and Rúmil, Sigrid, and countless others. He danced with a few men as well, but nobody, male, female, or otherwise, made him feel differently about marriage.

As he danced, an awful, hollow feeling sunk into his heart. Why couldn't he simply accept his unhappy future? Why did he have to feel this way at all? Haldir was quick to laugh, Feren was beautiful, Ori had a sweet charm about her, Sigrid had a clever sense of humor. Surely he ought to find something attractive in them! Kíli certainly did; he seemed to be enjoying himself amidst the attention and dancing.

Fíli knew, rationally, that there was nothing wrong with him. He was not the only aroace person in the entire kingdom; he had met a few others and some who were only one or the other. But in such a suffocating position, he could only feel like he was doomed to unhappiness because of it.

He was hand in hand with Lady Síreth, the daughter of the poor and overeager Thranduil, when the band stopped playing and Thorin announced that the feast had been served.

Relieved, Fíli let go of Síreth. She seemed just as relieved as him to stop dancing. She glanced over her shoulder.

"My father's busy," she told Fíli. "Do you mind if...we eat together?" She blushed. "That came out all wrong."

Fíli forced a smile. And here he had been thinking she was one of the few young ladies here who wasn't interested in marrying him. "Of course, my lady." He offered her an arm as they began to walk toward the banquet hall, but she didn't take it.

"I really don't..." Síreth turned even redder, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I can tell you're not too interested in me. I didn't mean to make you think I was interested in you, either. I'm only here because my father is forcing me."

Curious, Fíli raised an eyebrow. "Well, we have that in common." He coughed, then said in an undertone, "I'm not supposed to noise it about, but this ball wasn't exactly my idea."

"It's just, I don't want to be married," Síreth said earnestly now that she knew she had someone to listen. "I...my family situation is complicated, but my father, he just wants to be successful and fortunate again. He thinks that if I marry you...it'll work out for him."

"The Nobles' Council are forcing me to marry," Fíli told her. "I'm happier single, but—"

"They won't _listen_ ," Síreth finished for him. She smiled hesitantly. "I know how you feel. I'm, um...actually, I'm aromantic. And asexual, too. Not that my father knows."

Delighted by this turn of events, Fíli beamed at her, ignoring the whispers of the other ladies as they jealously watched him and Síreth talk. "Me, too!"

"Really?" Síreth exclaimed.

Fíli nodded. He sat down at the banquet table, and Síreth sat beside him. Across the table, Kíli spoke earnestly with Lord Bain, who nervously picked at his coat.

For a brief moment, Fíli pondered the idea of marrying Síreth. If she was also aroace, perhaps he could satisfy the Council and her father, and they could leave each other well alone for their entire relationship. But then he remembered the whole reason the Council wished him to marry: making heirs. That plan wouldn't work.

"You know, I'd heard about your brother, but not really you," Síreth said.

Fíli glanced at Kíli. "What did you hear?" he asked. "Kíli's very concerned with his reputation, he'll be eager to know what the gossip about him is like."

Síreth snorted in laughter. "Well, not that much. We're isolated, in our little mansion in the wood. But I go to the city sometimes, and I hear things. I know your brother is transgender, and the word says he's charming and funny if a little reckless. I can relate to...some of that, at least. But you're quite interesting too, now that I've met you."

"I'm glad I've met you," Fíli said. "Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one..."

Síreth sighed. "I know how that feels."

The food arrived, and soon everyone was too busy eating to talk. When Fíli was full, Kíli caught his eye. His dinner partner, Bain, had been distracted by his sister Sigrid and had wandered away.

"How are you?" he asked. "Lady Síreth treating you right?" He winked at her.

Síreth rolled her eyes. "I'm treating him better than most of the rest of these people, you royal rascal."

Kíli was surprised for a moment, then he laughed. "Me? A rascal? I'm a prince!"

"If we weren't so easy going, you might be in for a royal reprimand," Fíli joked.

"I figured you weren't the bad sort," Síreth said. "At least, I hoped. Your Highnesses."

Servants came to take their dishes away. Fíli thanked one of them, Bifur, and told him to give his compliments to the cook.

Bifur, who had once taught Fíli how play cards when he was younger, nodded. "Chef Bombur will be flattered," he said.

"Old Bombur?" Kíli asked, overhearing their conversation. "No wonder I enjoyed the meal, he's the best cook in the palace. You've been served by the best," he told Síreth solemnly.

"Well, it was better than what I can make," Síreth agreed.

Bifur whisked their dishes away, and before Fíli knew it, it was time to dance again. Groaning, he realized he'd have to part with Síreth and dance with some girl who only wanted his crown.

"One more dance?" he asked her.

Síreth shrugged. "Why not? My father will be pleased I danced with you twice, and it's better than dealing with any of the other people here."

Watching them, Kíli's eyebrows shot up. "What's this?" he asked, surprised.

Fíli shook his head. "Not like that," he said. "She's aroace, too."

"Ahh," Kíli said. He nodded to Síreth, who had grimaced briefly before smiling again. "Well, then have a nice, romance-free dance. Hopefully I'll be the one getting married instead of him." Then he walked off to dance with Lady Feren.

"That's sweet," Síreth said as they danced again. "For him to offer that."

"He's the best brother I could wish for," he agreed. After a pause, he said quietly, "Sorry for outing you like that. I figured, Kíli's bisexual and trans, he'll be okay with it, but I should have asked first."

"Thanks," she said. "I'm fine with it, actually, since you apologized, but..." She trailed off. "Thanks."

All too soon, the dance ended. Fíli let Síreth leave with some regret, though not because he loved dancing with her. But she was interesting, and aroace like him, and she would have made a good friend. He doubted he'd see her again, as he'd never met her before this.

Sighing, Fíli took the hand of the next lady who wanted to marry him, and began to dance again.


	9. Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's been just about three trillion years since I last updated, I was super busy and plagued by some terrible writer's block.  
> Content warnings: more of the same deal as previously.  
> Next chapter we'll get to the Kiliel goodness you've all been waiting for :)

Bard had been preparing for this ball for months. It had been his project and responsibility, and it had been a difficult one. The task of finding a proper wife for a prince, whether he was the heir or not, was always a difficult chore, and it was not made any easier by the highly emotional princes. He was fond of Fíli and Kíli and wished the best for them, but they did make his job harder with their constant protests and ever-changing feelings over the ball thrown in their honor.

It had started off as a fairly straightforward assignment: organize a ball in order to find a bride for Prince Fíli. Then Fíli had protested against his being married off without his consent, which was understandable, and the plans were changed to include Kíli as well. That had only involved the changing of posters and a few irate court artists.

But that was not the end of the complications. Fíli had insisted on there being no grand speeches made, which required adjustments in the program; Kíli simply refused to even have any sort of stew on the dinner menu, which resulted in more than a few infuriated court cooks; even Thorin and Dís became involved in the madness by requesting that he send couriers to deliver invitations to the highest ranking nobles and guild members in the city. At that point, Bard wanted to simply throw his hands into the air and let them plan their own ball, but he knew that could only end in disaster.

So he gritted his teeth, held back a sigh, and did his duty. He was lucky he had his children to comfort him and even help in the case of level-headed Sigrid.

The night of the ball itself was a stressful one, but nothing had gone terribly wrong by the time the second phase of dancing arrived. Bard allowed himself to relax slightly, at least enough to dance for awhile.

He did love dancing; it had been a pleasure of his as a boy, and he and his late wife Elyse had even won a few genty dance competitions. It had been nearly twelve years since Elyse's death, and Bard had recovered enough that he only felt a little bit melancholy as he twirled hand in hand with Lady Galadriel. He had tried to find love again in the years since she had passed on, discovering that he liked men as well as women in the process, but nothing had quite worked out.

No dance partner stayed with him for longer than a song and a smile, and Bard slowly began to enjoy himself. The rhythm of music soothed him, and as long as no chaos interrupted him, he would have a good time.

After a few songs, Bard felt he had taken long enough of a break from his duties. He drifted away from the dance floor, pausing to compliment a lady's earrings and remark in envy upon a young merchant's bright shoes.

He thought he heard sighs as he left one group of fashionable youth and he smiled faintly; he knew the younger generation admired his rugged good looks and tragic past, though surely none wished to marry him. He thought that his mystery and diplomacy were more interesting than his true self: a stressed, busy father of three, balancing his responsibilities to the king with those to his family.

Bard wound his way through the crowd to speak with King Thorin himself.

"Your Majesty," he murmured with a nod. "Are you enjoying the evening?"

"I would be, if either of the boys seemed to be finding someone," Thorin said. He examined a half-full glass of wine in his hand, as if deciding whether or not it was worth drinking. "I fear the purpose of this ball will not succeed." He took a reluctant sip of the wing, then made a face. "This is not Bombur's best wine. Tell him that from me."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Bard agreed, deciding not to mention that Bombur was not the one in charge of making the wine. "But surely one of them must have found someone to at least consider?"

Thorin laughed. "Fíli dances with an expression like he wants to flee. And Kíli...he dances and flirts with just about everyone, with no particular attachment."

Bard was about to respond with Thorin took a step back, looking over Bard's shoulder. "Blast it. There's that whiny lord of Greenweed, or whatever. Seems convinced that _I'm_ the one who will decide who Fíli marries."

"Perhaps it's because you're the King, Sire," Bard pointed out.

"True." Thorin backed away. "You talk to him this time—maybe he won't fawn so much over a Duke instead of the King." He paused, then shoved his half-empty wine glass into Bard's hands. "Take this. No matter how it tastes, you'll need it after talking to this blasted Thranhill character."

"Your Majesty—" Bard protested, but Thorin had already melted into the crowd.

He turned to see Thranhill of Greenweed smiling down at him. Thranhill was a man of about his age, with gold hair that was of such a pale sheen that Bard couldn't tell if it had a naturally silver glow or if he was graying. He had laugh lines about his eyes and his firm mouth, but the look in his green eyes was one of a certain hunger. This was a man who needed something from him, and from the way his teeth gleamed through his forced smile, Bard knew he would not rest until he had gotten it.

"Your Grace," Thranhill greeted him. "Have you seen King Thorin around? I thought I had just seen him over here."

"He just left," Bard said.

"A pity." Thranhill sighed. "I needed to speak with him concerning a matter of great importance."

"Mmm," Bard agreed. Not knowing what to say, he took a sip of Thorin's wine and immediately regretted it. _Someone_ would have to be informed of its poor quality.

"Say..." Thranhill glanced at him with a new light in his eyes. "You are an advisor of the King, are you not?"

"Yes," he admitted slowly. "How may I help you?"

"My name is Thranduil, Lord of Greenwood and Silva," the man introduced himself.

"Duke Bard of Esgaroth," he replied.

"Your Grace, I truly do not mean to be a bother," and the reluctance in his voice was sincere enough that Bard believed him, "but I _must_ find some help." Thranduil (not Thranhill) sighed deeply, then began, "I lost my estates some years ago in a fire, along with all my family but one daughter—Síreth." He nodded to a young woman with hair as blonde as his own and a tight-lipped expression. "I remarried, but my second wife died, leaving me with her son, who unfortunately could not make it here tonight."

Bard nodded to show he was still listening. Emboldened by his success, Thranduil smiled briefly, then continued: "I have done all I can to save the remains of my estate and give my children a better home. Both my late wife and I are of Eldaran stock; our families were never wealthy to begin with, not since the conquest a hundred years ago. Your Grace, I need alliances in a court I am not invited to."

"You need a marriage alliance," Bard said. He glanced over to where Síreth danced slowly with Bard's own son, Bain, then over to where Fíli stood uncomfortably at the edge of the crowd with a wine glass in his hand, evidently taking a break from being the center of attention.

Thranduil sighed, and Bard saw past the pushy nobleman to a man who was trying his best to take care of his family. "Yes," he admitted. "I was elated to hear of this ball. My Síreth would be a wonderful bride for Prince Fíli, if the circumstance arose."

Bard understood why this man irritated Thorin; in most cases, he too would be irritated by some nobody trying to talk his way into the king's good graces. But Thranduil had some charm about him, or perhaps it was a wistful air, the recognition that in some other time and place he might have been in a grander position. Or maybe it was his handsome looks; regardless, Bard was charmed enough to decide he wanted to help.

"I am fortunate to be so close to the king," Bard said. "I too lost my wife, but I retained my fortune and position." He held out a hand for Thranduil to shake.

Surprised, Thranduil took it, and the flicker of a genuine smile showed at his lips. "I'm glad you understand, your Grace."

"Please, call me Bard," he said. "Now, Thranduil...what is your Síreth like? I only want to know if she would be a good match for Fíli. I do know both the princes quite well, and I know he's quite picky with his women."

"She's beautiful, of course," Thranduil began, "but more than that, she's got a clear head about running a household. I've been teaching my step-son about finances, but Síreth's listened in to more than a few lessons and frankly, she's learned more. She'd be a good mother, which I know is very important. She wasn't too excited about this ball, but I think it's just because she's never been around this many nobility before. She's been to the city before, but her city friends are merchants."

"She sounds well-rounded," Bard remarked. He took another sip of the wine, repressed a grimace, and handed it off to the nearest manservant.

"She is," Thranduil agreed. "Were we invited to court, I am certain that she would have many suitors. She is the joy of my life, the light in all the tragedy I have faced."

"I feel the same about my children," Bard admitted. "Especially after my Elyse passed on..."

Thranduil gave him a brief, understanding look of sympathy. "I am doing my best to care for my children. Surely you understand that, Bard."

"I do," Bard agreed. The music changed, turning from a slow waltz to a faster, more upbeat melody. Impulsively, he offered Thranduil an arm, which he took in surprise, and they began to dance.

At court, dancing was simply a matter of getting to know another person; it was not taken very seriously as an act of flirtation, and anyone could dance with anyone. Friends, family members, and strangers alike took each other to the dance floor simply for enjoyment or for their own political reasons. By dancing with Thranduil, Bard hoped to imply that he was willing to negotiate, though he didn't think he'd mind if his gesture was taken another way.

They passed by Síreth while the music played. She flashed her father a surprised look, and Thranduil smiled at her.

"If you would like to know the truth, Fíli was quite reluctant to hold this ball," Bard murmured below the playing of the band. "He is opposed to the idea of marriage, but I am sure your Síreth could charm him. I could introduce her to him, but of course, it will be his choice in the end."

"I am deeply indebted to you, Bard," Thranduil said. He squeezed Bard's hand and they released each other as the song came to a close. "Thank you for the help...and for the dance." He smiled at Bard in such a way that made the poor duke's heart give a little leap, which he immediately disregarded as a foolish influence of their closeness and the music.

"And what of Prince Kíli?" Bard asked. "If Fíli finds another girl, or doesn't change his mind, would you consider him for your daughter?"

Thranduil blinked. "Kíli is also looking for a bride?"

"Yes," Bard said, though he didn't quite understand the wild boy's reasons for suddenly wanting to settle down. "He brings nearly as much station as his brother, and he's a good lad, too."

"I thought he..." Thranduil colored slightly. "I thought he would be looking for a man."

"Well, he might," Bard admitted. "He is bisexual, I believe." He almost added, _As am I_ , but he was fairly sure that Thranduil was not flirting with him. Then again, was simply stating that fact a flirtation? Did he even like this man?

Thranduil nodded. "I see. Well, I suppose Kíli would also be fine—though Fíli would be simpler..."

As soon as the next song ended, Thranduil called his daughter over. Lady Síreth curtsied to Bard as her father introduced her. Bard kissed her hand like a gentleman, then asked if she had met Prince Fíli yet.

"Oh...yes, actually," she said. Her eyes flitted to where Fíli now danced expressionlessly with a young woman Bard didn't recognize. "We ate dinner together, actually."

Thranduil beamed. "Síreth! You didn't tell me!"

"Well, I hadn't seen you yet," Síreth said, sounding far less excited than her father. "But yes. He's quite nice, actually."

Bard smiled. His job was being made much easier: if Síreth and Fíli were already on good terms, they would be less likely to protest to marriage, and both Thranduil and the Noble's Council would be pleased. "That is wonderful to hear. Are you enjoying the ball, my lady?"

"Yes, I suppose," she said. "It is wonderful to meet so many people...though I wish my step-brother could be here." She looked at Thranduil in an irritated way, and Bard felt that he was missing something.

"It is unfortunate," Thranduil admitted. He glanced quickly between Bard and Síreth. "Thank you, Síreth."

She was being dismissed; even Bard could tell. Síreth curtsied again and murmured her farewells, then floated back to the dance floor, her elaborate dress trailing behind her.

"I think she has a chance," Bard said, smiling to Thranduil. "They've already met, and I think they'd make a good match. I'll whisper something in the king's ear, and we'll see what Fíli thinks."

"I am indebted to you, Bard," Thranduil said, beaming.

Bard waved a hand dismissively. "Have you seen the royal gardens, Thranduil? If we could get the two of them alone there, I'm sure things would go very smoothly. It's quite a romantic spot."

"I have not seen them," Thranduil admitted. "Would you care to show me?"

"They are magnificent this time of year," Bard said, beginning to walk. "Follow me—I believe every palace visitor should see them before they leave..."

* * *

As soon as Legolas escaped xir father and Duke Bard, xe decided xe needed a moment alone. After finding out where the washrooms were from the nearest maid, xe ducked into one and let xir expression of forced politeness fall away into one of irritation.

It was obvious to xem that Thranduil had befriend Duke Bard, a man close to the king's ear, in an effort to secure xir marriage to Prince Fíli. The glee the two had suppressed upon learning that xe was already acquainted with the prince was unmistakable.

If money and status was all xir father was after, why didn't he just marry Bard? xe wondered in frustration. It would have the same outcome, and they clearly already liked each other. What was the point of forcing it onto xem?

Xe picked at the hem of xir dress. The thing was no more comfortable than it had been when xe first put it on, but as the night wore on, xe grew more used to it.

Legolas glanced in a mirror and smiled bitterly. Xe supposed xe looked pretty all dressed up like this, but "pretty" wasn't what xe _wanted_ to be. Tauriel occasionally spoke of how she wished she looked, and pretty was one of the words she used. She had an image of her ideal appearance.

But Legolas didn't know what xe wanted. It was unlikely, no matter what xe looked like, that xe would never be seen as nonbinary, especially by strangers. There were things xe could do to appear less feminine, but xe didn't know if being mistaken for male was any better than being mistaken for female. Perhaps it would be; perhaps it would feel the same.

Someone else entered the washroom, disturbing xir thoughts. Legolas glanced at them: it was Sigrid, a lady xe'd danced with earlier that night, and Bard's daughter.

"Hello, Síreth," she greeted xem. "Escaping the crowd?'

Xe nodded slightly, forcing politeness back on her face. "It's all...so much." The crowd and the noise was overwhelming, it was true, but xir need to get away went deeper than that. Still, xe wasn't about to tell _her_ that. "Are all balls like this?"

"Mm, not really." Sigrid looked in the mirror pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Usually they're more fun, and there are less adults. This one's all fancy and for show and for finding the princes wives. Or husbands, I suppose," she added.

 _Or neither,_ Legolas thought glumly. If xe was chosen, xe would fit neither category, though it wasn't like anyone would know that. Besides, she knew that Fíli—aroace, like her—didn't want a spouse of any gender.

Xe sighed. "I should probably go back."

"Nice talking to you," Sigrid said.

Upon re-entering the dance hall, xe was met by a dark-haired young person in a fancy suit.

"Thorin Stonehelm," the person introduced themself. "Would you care for a dance, fine gentleperson?"

Legolas actually smiled as xe accepted. Xe had heard of Stonehelm, the openly nonbinary cousin to the royal family. Ve was charismatic and friendly, said the city talk, though ve could be a smartass as well. Xe had also heard people complaining about vir confusing gender, but the fact that ve even tried to navigate life as an openly nonbinary person inspired xem. The title of "gentleperson" was certainly a political one, and Legolas appreciated it, though ve had no way of knowing xe was also nonbinary too.

"What's your name?" Stonehelm asked. "I'm afraid I don't remember your presentation."

Xe briefly considered telling ven their true name, but decided it would be too complicated. "Síreth. It's nice to meet you, my lairde."

"My father and I don't often visit the city, but I'm sure I would have remembered someone so lovely as you, Síreth," Stonehelm said with a grin. "Are you from outside the city?"

"Yes," xe answered. "Though not far. I actually live in a small estate within the royal forest."

"That's—" Stonehelm began, but a familiar voice interrupted ven and Legolas found xirself whirled out of vir arms by another hand.

"What's this, my best friend dancing with a person other than myself?" Gimli demanded jokingly.

Legolas gasped in surprise as they dipped xem out of time with the music, then began laughing breathlessly as they pulled xem back up.

"Sorry," xe called back to a surprised and lonely Stonehelm. "It's okay—we're friends!"

Stonehelm only shrugged and floated away, searching for another dance partner.

"That was _rude_ ," xe admonished Gimli. "Besides, it was Thorin Stonehelm! You've heard of ven, haven't you?"

Gimli only laughed and began to dance with xem in a calmer way, though they still missed a step every now and then. (Legolas couldn't tell if they were doing it on purpose or if they were really just not that good of a dancer.)

"I think I've heard the name before, but I thought it would be fun to interrupt you," they said.

"I thought you weren't coming to the ball," Legolas said. "Didn't you have a guild meeting? Did you skip it just to have fun, or to interrupt me while dancing?"

"No, the meeting was cancelled. Evidently the guildmaster is abed with the flu," Gimli said. "I decided to come along with my mother and my uncle—surprising you was just a bonus." They smiled. "Though I am very glad I saw you here."

Legolas smiled back, truly happy to be with them. Gimli was xir closest friend, and having them here with xem made the evening so much more bearable.

"How is your uncle doing?" xe asked. "I haven't seen him in awhile." Master Óin was a busy merchant and traveled across the country, though he stopped to visit in the city often.

"He's in a rough spot, but you know him," Gimli said. "He'll go through everything with cheer, even though he does complain. His hearing is getting worse, though. Last night when I said I had missed him, he thought I said I wanted to kiss him! That was awkward."

Legolas laughed. "What about your mother?"

"She's convinced she's going to find a new spouse at this ball." Gimli shook their head. "It's foolish. I don't understand how anyone could fall in love in one night—well, really, how anyone could fall in love at all, but especially so quickly."

"She probably just wants the money—that's why my father made me come here," Legolas said.

"No, she just misses having company that isn't me. It's love she's after, I'm sure," Gimli said. "How are you holding up? That dress doesn't look very comfortable."

"It's not," xe said heavily. "I hate it. I can't wait to get home and take it off." Xe sighed, about to say something else, but then they saw a sight that amused them: "Look—it's my father, dancing with Duke Bard!"

"What?" Gimli asked, twisting their head around to see. "The Duke? Really?"

"They're in cahoots to get me to marry the prince," Legolas said gloomily. "I don't know why Bard likes my father so much, or why they're still hanging around each other after sealing the deal, unless they're in love or something silly like that. Let's just hope Fíli dissuades them."

"Well, look at my mother." Gimli nodded to where Mistress Glóin stood at the edge of the crowd with an arm around a tall blonde woman. "That's Lady Galadriel—she's quite powerful in the Noble's Council. I guess she found that love she was looking for!"

"We'll see," Legolas said. "I doubt anything will last beyond the night, for either of our parents. You know how it goes."

"Truly," Gimli agreed.

They danced for another song, then went to get some drinks. Having danced with nearly every person at the ball, Legolas felt that xe had done enough to appease xir father. Xe was going to spend the rest of the night having fun with Gimli.

Unfortunately, Thranduil didn't feel that way. After only a few minutes, he began to make his way over to xem and Gimli.

"Síreth, what are you—" he began, casting an accusatory glance at Gimli. Belatedly, Legolas remembered that he had never met Gimli before, and had no idea who this strange person was.

But he was interrupted by the sound of a herald's horn. Legolas frowned, confused: hadn't everyone been introduced yet? The ball had begun hours ago!

"The Lady Tauriel!" the herald cried, and a magnificent woman stepped into the hall. The crowd fell silent as they took her in, and Legolas gasped audibly.

She wore a pale green dress, glittering with jewels, that looked far more comfortable than xir own blue monstrosity. She was adorned with necklaces and bracelets and a sparkling tiara, and her rich red hair was curled about her ears. She was absolutely stunning, even to Legolas, and xe was shocked to recognize this mystery woman as xir own step-sister!

"What a beauty," Gimli breathed. "Say...didn't you say—?"

Legolas glanced at Thranduil and they fell silent. Xir father gaped at his step-daughter, and Legolas felt a rush of fear: would he recognize her? Xe had no idea how Tauriel had arrived here like this, but xe found it unlikely that she would want to be outed to Thranduil in this manner.

"Who _is_ that?" Thranduil exclaimed as the crowd began to buzz with noise again. Tauriel floated across the hall, and was met eagerly by a crowd of admirers. Legolas's heart swelled with happiness for her: she would be the most sought-after dance partner of the evening. She had _so_ badly wanted to come to the ball, and now that everyone saw her as a woman, she would have a lovely time.

"I don't know," Legolas lied, elated at this turn of events. Xe grinned at Gimli. This night was turning out far better than xe had expected!

"Síreth, come with me," Thranduil said brusquely.

"But, Father—" xe protested, looking between Gimli and Tauriel. Xe didn't know what to do: xe wanted to spend time with both of them, but if Thranduil had his way, neither would happen.

" _Come_ , Síreth," he commanded.

Legolas let a sigh escape xir lips. Xe waved goodbye to Gimli, cast one last glance at Tauriel, then followed xir father away to wherever it was he wished to take xem—no doubt someplace where they would further discuss xir supposed marriage to Prince Fíli.

Well, the night had been fun enough. It was time to deal with everything else.


	10. So This Is Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy I'm back! Here's chapter 10!  
> I sprinkled in a line or two of "So This Is Love" from the Disney movie. I considered calling this story something along the lines of "touch every star in the sky" but I already have a fic called Touch the Sky...also about trans Tauriel, funnily enough.

The moment he set eyes on her, Kíli knew he was in love.

He had seen her before, and he immediately recognized her: it was the girl from the woods, the one who lived in the mansion with her harsh step-father and her step-sibling. _Tauriel_ , that was her name, and now everyone knew it. He felt a thrill of pride for her, remembering the first time he'd been called by his name in front of a crowd.

Only, now she looked different. Before, she'd worn an ill-fitting skirt and a shy glance, but now she was radiant in a beautiful ball gown and a wide smile. He'd liked her before, drawn in by her forwardness and her story, but he loved her now as she floated across the dance floor.

She was a spectacle. Who showed up late to a royal ball? It could have been rude if she were not so charming and beautiful. Guests crowded around her, begging for a dance, but Kíli was entranced. He pushed past the crowd, his eyes fixed on hers. People fell away from him, allowing the prince to be the first to dance with the mysterious Lady Tauriel.

When Tauriel saw him, she glanced away briefly, then glanced back flirtatiously. "Prince Kíli," she murmured as he approached her.

"Lady Tauriel," he greeted her. "Would you care for a dance?"

She took his offered arm, trembling slightly, and let him lead her onto the dance floor.

The music, which had stopped during the commotion, began to play for them. For a whole song, the rest of the guests only watched. Tauriel's steps were hesitant at first, and she clearly did not have much experience dancing, but she grew more sure of herself as the song played on.

When the chords of the next song were struck, the dance floor was suddenly full of other couples, each competing to be the most extravagant, in order to outdo the prince and his lovely dance partner. But that didn't matter to Kíli; he danced slowly and simply, only thinking of Tauriel.

They didn't speak. They only danced. Kíli thought that the lights in the room danced like twinkling stars in Tauriel's eyes. They were green, her eyes, greener than the dress she wore, and more beautiful.

Out of the corner of his eye as he spun around the dance floor, he saw Fíli smiling at him. When he caught Fíli's glance, his brother gave him a thumbs up. Kíli winked back at him, then turned to look at Tauriel again.

They drifted away from the rest of the crowd. Kíli could hear whispers of his name and grumbles that others didn't get to dance with Tauriel, but he forget them as soon as he heard them. None of that mattered while he held her in his arms.

They danced for a few minutes longer, apart from the crowd. Tauriel sighed happily, and Kíli leaned against her chest, embracing her.

"This is magical," he murmured. "Dancing...and love." He hoped he wasn't too forward in saying it, but from the way she held him he thought she felt the same.

"It's new," she said softly. "Love. Of this kind, at least."

Kíli looked up at her. This was the kind of connection he'd only heard of in fairy tales; he had assumed it didn't happen in real life. But even away from the flickering candlelight, Tauriel's eyes were full of stars and his heart was so light he felt he could fly away.

"I feel like I could touch the sky," he said.

"Mmm," she agreed.

He let go of her, but only briefly. He took her hand and led her out of the great hall. Even in their own little part of the hall, there were still far too many people around.

"Where are you taking me?" Tauriel asked.

"To the gardens," he replied.

They snuck out of the palace like two young lovers intent on keeping their affair a secret, which was only half wrong. As they tiptoed along cobbled paths, they caught a glimpse of another pair in the gardens: Bard and Lord Thranduil. Tauriel gasped upon seeing them and instantly fled, leaving Kíli to tear after her.

When he found her again, he took her to the rose bushes. Roses were his favorite. They were beautiful, especially at night when the moonlight lit the white ones so they shimmered like the reflection of the stars in a pond. Tauriel's eyes widened and she reached a hand out to gently touch one of the petals.

"It's gorgeous," she said.

"Like you," he told her.

Tauriel blushed. "No one's ever said that to me before."

Kíli sat down on a bench. She sat beside him, holding his hand.

"How did you get here?" he asked. "And—if you don't mind me being so frank, who are you, really?"

Tauriel's face fell. "I'm Lady Tauriel. Did you think I was lying to you?"

"No—that's not what I mean," he said. "I'm sorry. That sounded wrong. I mean, when I first met you in the wood, I didn't know you were a noble."

"You _do_ remember me!" she exclaimed.

"I'd never forget a meeting like that, or a girl like you," Kíli assured her. "You were so interesting, and pretty, and you made me only more curious about the manor in the woods. I came back looking for you, you know, but I never saw you."

"You were the first person besides my sibling who ever saw me as a girl," Tauriel admitted. "And you're royalty, besides! I never thought you'd remember. You meet interesting girls all the time."

"Court ladies aren't nearly as interesting as you'd think," Kíli said with disdain. "And the lords are just plain boring, much to my dismay. But tell me about yourself, I'm sure you know all about me. Who's your sibling? Are they at the ball?"

"Xe's here," she said. "Xir name is Legolas, but you wouldn't know xem by that. Neither of us have told my step-father—xir father—that we're trans. Xe's going by Lady Síreth right now."

"Wait—so _Thranduil_ is your step-father?" Kíli exclaimed. "Well that explains why you wanted to get away from him so fast when we spotted him with Bard!"

"Yes," she said, a bit guiltily. "He didn't want me to come. He doesn't like me nearly as much as he likes Legolas. I think I remind him of Mother. She died, we all miss her. But that's no excuse for being so horrible." She didn't elaborate on his horridness, but Kíli believed her.

"But Síreth—I mean, Legolas! I met her! Xem, I guess," he amended. "Sh—xe was my brother's dinner partner. Fíli's aroace, and so is xe, so they got along quite well."

"Thranduil will love that," Tauriel said gloomily. "He wants xem to marry Fíli so badly, despite xir protests. He just wants more money."

"Why did you show up late?" he asked. "Obviously you couldn't come with Thranduil, but how'd you get here at all?"

Tauriel paused, mulling the question over. Evidently it was more complicated than he had anticipated.

At last, she just smiled and shook her head. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," he prompted.

"My fairy godmother appeared and magicked me up a dress and a carriage."

She said it with such a straight face that he didn't realize she was joking for a second. Then he burst into laughter.

"You're funny!" he exclaimed.

Tauriel laughed along, but she still didn't tell him the truth. He decided not to press.

"The stars are beautiful tonight," he remarked, looking up into the sky.

"I love the stars," she said, her face lighting up. "Sometimes after a bad day, I'll look out my window and I'll feel a little less alone because I know they are always watching out for me."

"I always thought they were too far away to be anything but pretty lights in the nighttime," he admitted.

Tauriel looked at him in surprise. "They can mean so much more than that," she said earnestly. "They are my memories of my father playing with me in the summer night, of evenings curled up next to my mother on the grass, and even of Thranduil before he turned bitter, reading to me of the world around me. I found myself in the stars. They always knew I was a girl, before I even did."

If Kíli had been uncertain that he was in love before, he was sure of it now. "I saw a fire moon, one time," he said, filling his mind with stars. "It outshone the stars, but it holds my memories, I think. Of good times, with my family."

"Kíli..." Tauriel leaned her head on his shoulder, and he felt his heart flutter. "I am glad I came to the ball tonight."

"Me, too," he whispered. Gently, he placed a kiss upon her head, though really he wanted to kiss her lips.

"Now _you_ tell me of yourself," Tauriel said. "I know _about_ you, but I want to know _you_. Are you so happy with this ball to find yourself a spouse?"

"I'm happier than Fíli is," Kíli said. "He is supposed to be married by the end of the year, with children as soon as possible, but he doesn't want that. He's aroace, after all. But I wouldn't mind marriage and children so much, so I offered to do it in his place, even though I'd be the one having the heirs and not my spouse." He wondered what having children would be like. His Uncle Frerin had born children, so he knew it was possible, but the sensation had to be...strange, especially for a man. He hoped he wouldn't feel too dysphoric while pregnant, but that was so far in the future that he wasn't too concerned about it.

"Of course, it's harder for me to find a spouse who'd be...compatible," he admitted, "since I'm trans. But it's not impossible, and I like both men and women and others besides, so I have hope." He suddenly realized that Tauriel would fit his needs, and he blushed furiously.

"Kíli..." Tauriel sat up straight and looked at him with wide eyes. "Do you think...I...?"

"I don't mean it like that!" he exclaimed, more embarrassed than he'd ever thought possible. "I really like you, Tauriel, and not for...I mean, I wasn't thinking...!"

"That's..." Now she was blushing too. "No, but don't you see? It would work, me and you. I love you—even if we've only just met—and that's what the ball is for, after all, to find you a wife. Well, you've...you've found me!"

"I...this is all so fast," he said, his stomach churning with anxiety. "I love you too, I think, though I never imagined I'd fall in love like this. I guess I'd imagined my spouse would be someone I'd fall in love with _after_ we'd married for convenience."

"I never thought this would happen at all, to be honest," Tauriel said. "I was never against romance, but it just seemed so...distant. But Kíli, I'd like to help you. I want to know you better, and if I go back home, why...I'd never see you again. If I could get away from Thranduil, live my life how I want..."

"And we'd help Fíli, too," Kíli murmured. Trembling, he took her hand again. "Tauriel, can I kiss you?"

She nodded. "Yes, yes, please," she stammered. "Kíli, I love you, I'd be happy to marry you, even though you didn't ask, and I—"

He kissed her and felt like he was glowing with warmth. Her lips were soft, and she was startled at first, but she quickly began to kiss him back. She was perfect, so much better than he'd ever thought anyone could be, and he thought in that moment that every crisis was averted and all would be well.

Then the clock struck twelve.

Immediately, Tauriel gasped and jumped away from him. Kíli stared at her in shock.

"Tauriel?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

"No!" she cried, leaping to her feet. "It's—it's midnight! I have to go!" She turned and raced away, running through the gardens and down a flight of stairs.

"Tauriel, wait!" he cried, running after her. "You can't leave now! Please don't go! Was it something I did?"

But she was gone, her green dress flapping in the wind. No matter how fast he ran, he couldn't catch up to her. He reached the top of the steps just in time to watch her carriage ride away.

"Tauriel!" he cried, a hole opening up in his chest where only a moment before it had been filled with joy.

Drawn by the commotion, Kíli was soon surrounded by a gaggle of partygoers.

"What's wrong?" asked Thorin in concern. "Kíli, are you alright?"

"Kíli!" exclaimed Fíli. "What happened?"

Kíli barely heard them, staring into the distance as the carriage vanished out of sight. "She's gone."

"Who? That girl?" Thorin asked. "She was quite beautiful, and you two danced like you were in love." He laughed, but when Kíli didn't respond, he spoke again quieter: "Kíli, did she break your heart?"

"She might have," he admitted. "She was...perfect, in every way. She said she wanted to marry me, but as soon as the clock struck twelve, she was just...gone."

"That doesn't sound like true love," Fíli said dubiously.

"But it _was_ ," he insisted.

Suddenly, he gasped. There was something on the steps. He scrambled down them to see what the object was.

It was a single slipper, made of glass. Kíli hadn't even known Tauriel had been wearing glass slippers, but he picked it up reverently, sure she had left it as a sign: she still loved him, and she wanted to find him.

"She left this for me," he said, holding it up reverently. "And Thorin, Fíli, Mother—I know where she lives! We have to go find her, now!"

"No," Dís said tiredly. "The ball is not over quite yet, Kíli, and you have princely duties to attend to. In the morning, you will tell us all about your night, and we will see what we can do."

"But..." Kíli wanted to run after her right now, and not listen to his mother, but he knew she was right. Besides, there was still her step-father to consider—Thranduil was still here, and he wouldn't endanger Tauriel by outing her to him.

So instead of racing after Tauriel into the night, Kíli sighed and turned back to the palace. But he had her shoe, and he remembered her kiss and her words, and he promised to himself that he would find her again.


	11. When the Clock Strikes Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this fic, you'd probably like another fic I just posted this month! It's a fem!Kiliel Sleeping Beauty AU called "Seldom All It Seems". I'm posting the final chapter tomorrow, you should check it out :)

The ball was even more wonderful than Tauriel could ever have imagined. The dancing, the attention, the food—all of it was exhilarating and freeing. Tauriel felt like she could finally be herself here, where no one knew her past and her situation and everyone believed what she said.

But the best part of the ball was Kíli. She hadn't dreamed he would still remember her, let alone love her, but she found she loved him as much as he loved her. She was a little frightened by the depth of her sudden feelings, but when Kíli spoke of a future together, in which they could be happy and true to themselves, Tauriel found hope in his words.

She wanted so badly to marry him, to love him, to be seen by the whole kingdom as a woman and a princess, but she had forgotten Gandalf's spell.

As soon as the clock began to strike, she knew she had to flee. Gandalf's magic would reverse itself soon, and she didn't want Kíli to see her in her dirty clothes, or even worse, to be recognized by Thranduil.

She gasped, frantically trying to figure out what to do.

"Tauriel?" Kíli asked fearfully. "Are you alright?"

She let out an anguished cry of "No!" She jumped to her feet, racing away. "It's—it's midnight! I have to go!"

Tauriel raced down out of the palace gardens, lifting her skirts and cursing her glass slippers that made running so difficult! The clock was slow to strike, but she knew that the twelfth stroke would unravel Gandalf's spell and leave her doomed. She could hear Kíli calling after her, but she did not turn back no matter how much it hurt her to leave him.

At the fifth toll of the clock, she reached the stairs leading into the courtyard. She could see her carriage before her, with Feren and Treebeard waiting for her. She flew down the stairs, desperation pushing her forward, but she tripped and tumbled down the last few steps, falling on the ground with a cry.

She took a deep breath and pushed herself up. She had lost one of her precious shoes on the stairs! She scrambled back to her feet, her heart pounding and head throbbing. She wanted to reach for her lost slipper, but she could hear Kíli's cries of hurt as he chased after her, and the tolling clock spelled her doom.

Tauriel's heart broke. She had hurt Kíli by leaving and not explaining why. But she simply didn't have the time. And as the clock struck seven, she realized she'd lost too much time already.

So instead of grabbing her lost slipper, she removed the one she still had and held it in her hand as she ran the last few paces and leaped into her waiting carriage.

"Go!" she cried to Treebeard as Feren closed the door. The carriage started off through the city and out to the forest where she lived just as the clock struck for the eighth time on its way to twelve.

Gandalf's magic was clearly at work, for time seemed to stop as the carriage moved. The tolling of the clock paused; Tauriel could barely see through the windows of the carriage as it sped along. It moved so quickly through the city that she lost sense of space and time.

She slumped against the carriage's seat, breathing heavily from her run. She held her slipper in her lap, trying to hold onto the memories of her night.

"How was the ball?" Feren asked.

"Wonderful," Tauriel breathed. "It was simply...marvelous."

"What about the prince?" he inquired with a tinge of mournful jealousy.

Tauriel laughed. "He was the best part. We danced for hours, then he took me to the gardens and..." But she did not feel like telling Feren, the squirrel turned man, what exactly they had spoken of. He would not understand the intricacies and depth of her feelings for Kíli. Neither would Legolas, but xe could at least accept it, and she couldn't wait tell xem.

Legolas! For the first time, her mind turned to worry about xem. How had xe fared at the ball? Had it been unbearable and dysphoric? Or had xe found unexpected enjoyment there? From what Kíli had said, xe had hit it off with Fíli, though not in the fashion Thranduil desired.

At the thought of her step-father, Tauriel's stomach soured. She didn't want him to  _ever_  know her secrets, but if she did marry Kíli—her heart lifted at the thought—he would learn at least some of them. Maybe she ought to come out to him, like Gandalf had suggested...

Now she grew worried. Would Gandalf's spell provide for her return all the way home? For all time seemed suspended as Treebeard drove the carriage onward, the manor was a long way from the castle, and no normal carriage could cross the distance between the two in the four strikes of the clock that had been left to her.

But though Tauriel's life continued within the carriage, it did not dissolve. Gandalf must be looking out for her.

"Lady Tauriel, what happened to your shoe?" Feren asked, stirring her from her reverie. "You've lost one, and I thought you humans liked them on your feet, not your legs."

"It fell off as I ran on the stairs," she explained. "And it's hard to run with only one on, so I took this one off." She sighed. "Will Kíli find my slipper? Gandalf said the shoes were the only things that would stay."

Feren only shrugged and scratched his head. "I don't know. Humans and magic are strange."

"How was your night?" she asked him.

"It was fun," said Feren, "but I miss being a squirrel. Humans are too  _big_!"

Tauriel smiled. "You are silly, little Feren!" He was far smaller than she was.

Abruptly, the carriage pulled to a stop in the midst of the forest. Feren flung the door open and Tauriel tumbled out of it just as the distant clock struck twelve and the spell was undone. Time was back to normal.

The carriage shimmered and shrunk back to an apple. Treebeard loped over to his home and sunk his fast-growing roots back into the ground, smiling as he returned to being her grand oak. Feren bowed to her even as his form changed and he became a furry little creature again.

Tauriel felt her lovely gown melt away. Tears pricked her eyes. She had known all along it would vanish at the end of the night, but it had made her feel so  _wonderful_ , so much like a woman. Now she was back in her stolen maid's rags, and sadness filled her heart.

But still, even as her world returned to normal, the glass slipper remained in her hands. She would keep it forever, a token of her glorious night should Kíli not return for her.

She found her belongings, all her treasured things, strewn upon the ground. With the slipper, she placed them back in her hollow and changed into her men's clothes.

Before she left the forest and went back home, she touched the oak tree's bark.

"Thank you, Treebeard," she murmured.

She felt a weight on her shoulder. A squirrel—Feren, no doubt—landed on top of her and chirped in her ear.

Laughing, she took him in her hands and kissed his fuzzy head. "And thank you, too, Feren!"

The squirrel did not wish to leave her side. Shrugging, she let him follow her through the woods and into the manor. Having another friend would be pleasant, even if he was an animal.

Tauriel collapsed in her bed, her mind full and her heart warm, just as she heard another carriage arriving. Thranduil and Legolas had returned home.

She drew her covers over her head. Feren curled up at her feet. She wouldn't face her family until the morning, not even to tell Legolas the tale. For now, she wanted to keep her story as a treasure in her heart. She could tell xem in the morning.

She smiled as she fell asleep, and her dreams were full of magic and starlight and most of all, Kíli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been over a year since I started this fic. It feels both longer and shorter than that!  
> We're nearing the end. I'm cautiously going to say this story will be 15 chapters total? And I hope to finish it by September!  
> Thanks for all of your support!


	12. The Glass Slipper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since the last update! My life has been crazy busy, and school is starting back up tomorrow, so idk when the next update will be. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to finish this story by the end of the year though :)  
> Content warnings: misgendering, more of the same. I think I'm gonna stop putting these up on each chapter, you know what to expect by now.  
> Thanks for reading and commenting!

Legolas rose late the morning after the ball. Xe had endured a long night, and xe felt xe deserved a rest. Even if Gimli had brightened the occasion, the ball had been long and painful, and xe was relieved to arrive home.

Tauriel was already up and busy when xe trudged downstairs for breakfast. She hummed dreamily as she washed dishes, her eyes unfocused and her mind clearly elsewhere. Evidently for her, the ball had been far more enjoyable.

Legolas blinked. The ball! Tauriel had been there! Xe hadn't had the chance to speak to her there, and had nearly forgotten her grand entrance and grander exit.

Xe resisted the urge to rush over to her and beg for details, hyper-conscious of Thranduil's presence in the kitchen. Xir father ate cheerfully, reading a book as he did so. As Legolas entered, he beamed and beckoned xem over.

"Síreth, darling!" he proclaimed. "You did wonderfully last night—and I didn't do too badly myself. I am almost positive you will be hearing from Prince Fíli by sundown!"

Legolas was far less certain, especially knowing what xe did about Fíli being aroace. "Well, we'll see," xe said dubiously. "I feel like you did far more than I in that area, at least, with all your talking with the Duke."

"Bard was  _quite_  generous," Thranduil said, nodding, "but it was  _you_  who danced with Fíli, not I."

"You danced with the prince?" Tauriel asked, drifting back to reality.

Legolas shrugged. "Once or twice. It was just dancing."  _And_ you  _danced with Kíli all night long!_  xe thought, dying with curiosity. Xe had so many questions for her—how had she gotten to the ball? Where had she gotten her lovely dress? Why had Kíli danced with her? Did he truly love her? Would she now consider coming out to Thranduil?

The events of the previous night had proven one thing to Legolas: xe did not wish to hide xemself any longer. If Thorin Stonehelm and Gimli could live and thrive as openly nonbinary, if Kíli could be respected as trans, if Fíli could problem-solve as an aroace person—xe could do all that, too.

Xe knew Thranduil would be confused and upset, but he loved xem, and he would listen and learn. Xe wanted—needed—to come out to him. All that kept xem back was Tauriel. They had always said they'd do it together.

But xe couldn't voice any of that in front of Thranduil—not yet, at least. Not without talking with Tauriel.

"Why, that's lovely," Tauriel said vaguely, her mind already wandering again.

"It was a wonderful event, Caranon," Thranduil said awkwardly. Legolas raised an eyebrow. He sounded almost guilty that he hadn't let her come.

"Too bad I couldn't go." Tauriel's words were bland. Legolas was surprised. Xe would have expected her to be more snide and angry and almost vindictive toward him, considering all that had happened the day before. But whatever it was she was thinking about was evidently good enough that she couldn't even muster up her usual spite toward Thranduil.

"Well, I'll be looking at wedding invitations in my office," Thranduil said, rising to his feet. "I'm sure Síreth has a lot to tell you about last night." He nodded to Tauriel, who didn't acknowledge him, then left the kitchen.

At once, Legolas rushed over to xir sister. "Tauriel!" xe cried. "I saw you, last night! What— How— Why—"

Tauriel beamed and embraced xem, snapping out of her reverie. "Oh, Legolas, it was the most wonderful thing! I was in the wood, crying, and my fairy godmother appeared! She—"

"Your  _what_?" Legolas exclaimed in amazement. "Tauriel, this is no time for tall tales!"

"It's true, I swear!" Tauriel snapped her fingers. "I know—I'll show you my slipper from last night! Follow me!"

She sped out of the house and into the forest, always a few steps ahead. Legolas hurried after her, wondering where on earth she was leading xem.

Tauriel followed a small, winding path through the wood. After a few minutes, she walked off the path and up to a grand oak tree.

Deftly, Tauriel clambered up its limbs and into a hollow about halfway up its trunk. She poked her head out and beckoned for Legolas to follow.

"Come on up," she said. "There's room enough for both of us."

Hesitantly, Legolas grabbed the trunk and pulled xemself up by the branches. Xe had never been one for climbing trees, not even the small ones on the property of xir old home before the fire and Thranduil's remarriage, but xe managed to drag xemself into the hollow.

Inside, illuminated faintly by a few rays of sunlight filtered by the tree's leaves, were objects Legolas had never seen before: a scarf, a watch, a ratty skirt, a few pieces of paper, some books. The hollow was lined with soft hay and blankets. This looked like an intensely private place.

"What is this place?" xe asked in a hushed voice.

"My tree," Tauriel replied, glancing around. "I've come here for years...since I was about thirteen. I never wanted to show it to anyone else, but..." She shrugged. "I guess it's time you knew about it."

"What were you going to show me, again?" Legolas said.

"Oh! Yes!" Tauriel dug in the blankets, then reverently drew out a single glass slipper.

"I lost the other one," she said. "Gandalf, my godmother, she gave me a temporary dress and a carriage, but the shoes stayed after everything else vanished."

Legolas touched the slipper gently. It was really glass, but it was more sturdy. It sparkled oddly in the faint light, and xe felt a shiver run down xir spine as xe touched it. Maybe it  _was_  magical... Such stories of fairy godmothers and god-sent blessings were not unheard of in the lands round about, but xe had never thought xe would run into someone who would have such an experience.

"Alright, let's say I believe you about the fairy godmother," xe said. "Certainly you were at the ball. How was it? How was  _Kíli_?"

"Kíli was..." She sighed, a dreamy smile gracing her lips. "He was  _lovely_. I had  _such_  a wonderful night, Legolas! We danced, and he took me to the gardens... I met him before, in these woods, you know. I didn't tell you, but I liked him then. And now..." Her eyes were wide pools of green, wondrous as she continued: "Now, I think I love him."

Legolas sat back, xir head spinning. This was all too much for xem. Fairy godmothers and disappearing dresses? Princes in the woods and magic slippers? And to top it all off—love?

"This is going too fast for me," xe confessed, "but I trust you're right. Love? Really?"

"I don't know for sure," she admitted. "But he offered marriage—or no, I did! I said I'd marry him if he wanted! That was the point of the ball, after all, to find him or his brother a spouse. I like him—love him—and if I could be Princess Tauriel instead of Little Lord Caranon..."

_That_  Legolas could understand. "Yes," xe sighed. "My night was not nearly so spectacular. I danced with every young noble under the sun. Fíli  _was_  nice, but we're both aroace—did you know? And I met Stonehelm of Ironhill there. Ve is so inspiring... And Gimli showed up, too! But I was stuck in a dress, and Father was conspiring with Duke Bard to marry me off... You arriving was the best part of it all. Father didn't even recognize you."

"Good," she grumbled.

"No—Tauriel!" Legolas sighed. "I want to come out to him. I think it's time. We need to tell him everything, and he'll see— _you_  can marry a prince, and we can both be openly trans, and—"

"That won't work—not with him," she said bitterly. "No."

"Please..." Legolas trailed off. "Think about it, at least? For me?"

Her eyes softened. "Alright," she agreed. "I'll think about it, for you. But no promises."

"Why did you run away?" xe wondered. "If it was all going so well? Prince Kíli was distraught afterward."

"The spell was going to end," she explained. "At midnight, I had to be home. I left a shoe behind in my hurry, but I'm not worried. Kíli knows I live in the manor."

"You think he'll come for you?" Legolas asked. Xe didn't quite understand why, but xe hoped he would.

"Yes," she said, her eyes alight. Legolas could almost imagine stars dancing in them; it seemed like a romantic thing that might happen. "I  _know_  he will."


	13. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's been 83 years and this chapter is pretty short BUT i promise that this fic WILL be complete by the end of the year!!! I'm already working on the next chapter :) hope you enjoy!

Kíli sat at the dining table long before anyone else arrived, anxiously fiddling with the glass slipper in his hand. He had only one thought on his mind:  _Tauriel._

He had barely slept as he worried about her. What dreams he'd had in his fitful sleep were lonely and frightening, but it was worth seeing her face.

Kíli had too many questions. His conversation with Tauriel had promised to bring them everything they wanted and more, so why had she left him? Was it something he had done? Had she not liked their kiss, for all it had felt like the best moment of Kíli's life?

Fíli was the first other person to arrive to breakfast. He sat down beside Kíli, rubbing his eyes. "Morning, Kí."

"Fíli, do you know when Mother and Thorin will be here?" Kíli asked urgently, gripping his brother's hand.

Fíli shook himself from his grasp. "No," he said through a yawn. "We all had a late night, I'd imagine they'll be sleeping in." He turned aside and called, "Servants! Bring in breakfast, we're hungry!"

"Is food all you can think about?" Kíli demanded. His stomach was too tight with anxiety for him to feel hungry. "I've got to find her!"

"Find who?" Fíli asked.

"Tauriel," he sighed, his heart lifting at the sound of her name.

Two servants hurried in with platters of eggs, ham, and milk. Fíli thanked them and dove into his plate. Through a mouthful of food, he mumbled out, "That girl from last night?"

"Yes," Kíli said, remembering how holding her felt and feeling dizzy. "She was...perfect."

Fíli swallowed. "Didn't she run out on you? Maybe she doesn't want to be found."

Kíli shuddered at the thought. "I don't—no! It can't be true. She said she'd marry me—Fíli, I love her!"

"Love who?" Dís asked, striding in behind Thorin.

Kíli jumped to his feet. "We haven't time for breakfast!" he exclaimed even as they seated themselves and began to eat. "Come on—I'll explain on the way. Let's saddle up and head down to the forest—"

"The forest!" Thorin proclaimed, dropping his fork. "Kíli, what fanciful nonsense is fluffing up your brains this time?"

"Sit down, Kíli." Fíli pulled him back down into the chair and patted his back. "Some of us  _are_ hungry."

"You've eaten a whole hog by now," Kíli grumbled. "She's  _waiting_  for me, Fí!"

"Tell us everything," Dís commanded.

"It started—well, a month or so ago, really," Kíli began. "I was riding in the forest outside the city, and I ran into a woman in the forest. She was pretty, and funny, and interesting, but I didn't think much of it then..." He sighed dreamily, wondering how he could have overlooked her so easily. No girl in the palace was as pretty or as funny or as interesting as Tauriel, and—

He was interrupted from his sappy thoughts by a gentle smack from Fíli.

"Go on," he groaned. "If I've got to listen to your romantic nonsense, I'd like to get it over with." Thorin snorted.

"And then last night, she came to the ball." In Kíli's memories, she glowed with a starry radiance, her dress reflecting moonlight and her touch filling him with warmth. "We danced...and talked...She said she would marry me!"

"Marry you!" Thorin beamed. "Excellent! Then our worries are over!"

"No!" Kíli cried in dismay. "Don't you remember? When the clock chimed twelve, she ran away!" He presented the glass slipper and placed it reverently on the table. "This is all she left me..."

"Well, then, we must find her," Thorin said. He clapped his hands, and a servant entered. "Send for Duke Bard at once!" The servant bowed and scurried off to obey.

"Bard will find her for you, Kíli," Dís said. She put a hand on her chest. "My little boy, to be married!"

"Does...does this mean I need not marry, myself?" Fíli asked hesitantly.

Thorin frowned. "I...don't know. Kíli, um..." He flushed. "Do you know...does she...could you..."

Kíli looked down, deeply uncomfortable, but he nodded. "She is also trans, Uncle Thorin. Conception of an heir is entirely possible, if that's what you're worried about."

"Ah. Good." Thorin cleared his throat. "Then—yes, Fíli, I suppose so."

A weight of worry lifted from Fíli's shoulders. He turned and embraced Kíli, gruffly whispering, "Thank you, Kí."

At that moment, Duke Bard entered. He bowed to the king.

"Your Majesty, how may I be of assistance?" he asked.

"Please, sit," Thorin invited. "Your Grace, our Prince has selected his bride."

"Wonderful!" Bard said. "I am so glad to see Prince Fíli agrees that Lady Síreth is—"

"Me? No!" Fíli exclaimed.

"Not Síreth—the Lady Tauriel," Kíli explained. "I am to marry her."

"Lady Tauriel?" Bard blinked. "You mean, the girl who came late?"

"Surely you saw them dancing as if they were in love," Dís said, amused. "It turns out they were. She is the perfect match for my son."

"Did she not run away?" Bard scratched his head. "I...don't understand. I thought Prince Fíli and I agreed that Lady Síreth and her honorable father Thranduil were to be joined to our—I mean, your family."

"Tauriel ran, yes," Kíli said, "but I know where to find her. The manor in the forest, Lord Thranduil's home!"

"Tauriel? Are you sure do not mean Síreth? Lord Thranduil has but one daughter," Bard explained.

That he did, but it was not "Síreth", the person who was truly Tauriel's step-sibling Legolas. Kíli ground his teeth in frustration: why could they not have this discussion as they rode to the manor? He needed to see Tauriel again and find out why she had run and if she would still have him.

"Lady Tauriel is Thranduil's step-daughter, known to him as his son," Kíli said slowly and delicately. "She is transgender, like myself, though Thranduil does not know."

Bard stroked his mustache, frowning. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Very well," he said at last. "But, Prince Fíli...are you certain you would not consider the Lady Síreth—?"

"No, nor would she consider me," Fíli said firmly.

"But..." Bard looked pained. "Lord Thranduil is an excellent man...He would make a good father-in-law..."

Why did Bard care so much? Kíli didn't bother dwelling on it. The only thing he cared about was Tauriel, no doubt waiting and wondering why he had not come.

"He shall be a father-in-law to me," Kíli said. He rose to his feet. "I am done waiting! This slipper fits the foot of my bride, and I  _must_  see her again. Let us ride!"


	14. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second-to-last chapter! Thank you for sticking with me this far! <3

At noon, there was a knock at the door.

Tauriel leapt to her feet, her heart pounding. Was it Kíli? Had he returned for her? Was her life about to change?

She froze as she approached the door. Thranduil had reached it first. She saw Legolas poking xir head around the corner in curiosity. With only three people in the manor, visitors were highly unusual.

Thranduil ran a hand through his hair self-consciously, straightened his back, and opened the door.

A troupe of nobles stood beside magnificent horses. Tauriel recognized the king, his sister Princess Dís, Prince Fíli, Duke Bard, a gaggle of servants, and—

_Kíli_. She gasped and ducked out of sight, suddenly mortified. What if he changed his mind if he saw her dressed like a boy? What if he was more impressed with Legolas? What if he'd simply come to expose her and throw her glass slipper back in her face?

He looked around anxiously—looking for her. Her heart soared; why would she worry? Of course he still loved her!

Thranduil bowed deeply, overcome. He beckoned Legolas forward, and xe sank into a curtsy.

"Your Majesty! Your Highnesses!" he exclaimed. He smiled to Bard. "Your Grace. What an  _unexpected_  honor!"

"Lord Thranduil," King Thorin said warmly. He opened his arms. "This visit may come as a surprise, but I assure you it is a pleasant one. Our princes have much to discuss with you."

"Come in, come in!" Thranduil said. "Síreth—would you show Prince Fíli and the King to our living room?"

Xir face carefully blank, Legolas offered xir arm to Fíli and led the royal family inside.

"Caranon," Thranduil called after the last noble had passed. Grudgingly, Tauriel trudged over to him, her head bowed. "Caranon, I know we have our differences and...difficulties, but this day is very important. If you mess it up..." He trailed off with a warning glare.

"I would never ruin your good fortune." She smiled, a surge of victory rushing through her veins.  _She_  knew what he didn't: the prince was here for her, not Legolas. "Father," she added.

Thranduil clasped her shoulder. "Good, son. Now—let us greet the King!"

Tauriel sat beside Legolas on the sofa, uncomfortably aware of her tall, gangly figure. She didn't meet Kíli's eyes, but she could feel his loving gaze upon her. She was too conscious of Thranduil, sitting on the other side of Legolas, to show any signs of affection. Thranduil rattled off unnecessary introductions, and she flinched as he called her by her deadname.

"Lord Thranduil," King Thorin began. "We were much honored by your presence at the ball last night. My nephew, in particular, was blessed by the occasion." He turned expectantly to the princes, both of whom were grinning.

"That's right," Kíli said. He flashed a smile at Tauriel, then turned back to face Thranduil. "I danced with your daughter last night, and I am enamoured of her."

Tauriel blushed, looking at her hands. He did love her! But then fear struck her: was he going to out her to Thranduil? She hadn't thought this far ahead, but it was suddenly a pressing concern. She didn't know if she was ready—she wanted to it on her own terms...

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Wait...I thought it was Prince Fíli who was fond of my Síreth!"

"No, my lord," Fíli said. "Whatever the honorable Duke Bard told you must have been... a miscommunication." He gave Bard an irritated glance. "It is Kíli who loves your daughter."

"We have come looking for the girl who fits this slipper," Kíli proclaimed. He snapped his fingers, and Bard reached into a box at his feet and drew out a single glass shoe.

Tauriel held back a gasp. Beside her, Legolas grabbed her hand.

Thranduil reached out and took the slipper from Bard. He ran a hand over its top with a frown. "A glass slipper...and this is Síreth's?"

"It is your daughter's," Kíli said, looking directly at Tauriel. "And I wish to marry the girl to whom it belongs."

Unable to contain herself, Tauriel jumped to her feet. "Lord Thranduil," she said, her heart pounding, but Legolas cut her off.

Xe stood as well, still holding her hand. Xe smiled at Kíli and nodded to Fíli. "Your Highnesses, Your Majesty—may our family speak and discuss this? It is a weighty matter."

"Of course," Thorin agreed.

Thranduil got to his feet. Legolas led the way into the next room and closed the door.

Tauriel took a deep breath, gathering all her courage. She didn't know how this would turn out.

Thranduil looked at the slipper in awe. "Síreth, is this yours?"

"No," Legolas said, "but, Father—"

"Take off your shoe," he commanded. "We'll see if it fits."

"It won't," Tauriel said softly. "It's much too big."

"Síreth, take off your shoe." Thranduil shot a glare at her. "If this fits, we are all to be saved! I thought Bard would work out an engagement to Fíli, not Kíli, but it does not matter which prince Síreth marries."

Reluctantly, Legolas removed xir shoe and slipped xir foot into the slipper. Just like Tauriel knew it would be, it was far too big—Legolas's tiny foot was dwarfed by the size of Tauriel's shoe, fit to her own foot several sizes larger.

Thranduil sighed in disappointment.

"The prince knows it's not me, anyway," Legolas said, handing the shoe back to xir father.

"Then why is he here?" Thranduil demanded. "I have no other daughter!" He ground his teeth. "Is there anything else you can say to make him think it  _was_  you? We  _need_  this, Síreth..."

"No!" Legolas snapped. "I refuse. I won't live like this any longer, Father! I'm sick of everything I do being a lie, I'm sick of—"

"I'm trying, Síreth." Thranduil's voice trembled. He grasped xir hands. "I am. Please. If you want things to be better, you  _must_  marry the prince!"

"That's not what I mean." Legolas wrenched xir hands away from him. Xe turned to look at Tauriel. Xir eyes were wide and pleading. She didn't to hear xem speak to know what xe was thinking:  _Come out, now, please,_  xe begged.  _For both of us._

Tauriel clenched her fists. All her doubts swelled up inside her: would Thranduil believe them? Would he accept them? Would he allow her to live her life, would he favor Legolas over her?

But there was no other path to take. And after so long of hiding, Tauriel empathized with Legolas: she, too, was sick of lying.

She nodded. Legolas smiled. "It's time," xe said.

"What? What's going on?" Thranduil demanded. "Síreth, what do you mean, it's time?"

Tauriel ignored him and opened the door, walking out. If she was going to do it, she wanted to Kíli to be there to support her. She needed all the strength she could get.

"Caranon!" Thranduil called as he hurried after her. "What are you doing?"

Kíli rose to his feet, hope flashing in his eyes. "Yes?" he asked anxiously, with eyes only for her. "Have you...talked it out?"

"Not yet." Tauriel took a deep breath and turned to face Thranduil, her hands on her hips. "Thranduil. We have something to tell you."

"What's going on?" Princess Dís asked, but Fíli hushed her.

Now that the time had come at last, Tauriel found herself trembling in terror. Legolas stood by her side and grasped her hand tightly.

"We're in this together," xe whispered. "Are you ready?"

She nodded.

"Father," xe began. "I am not the girl who danced with Prince Kíli."

Thranduil's face fell. "Síreth...I...I had hoped..."

"In fact, I am—" Legolas gulped, and Tauriel squeezed xir hand. "I am not a girl at all."

Thranduil stared at xem in incomprehension. "What?" he said blankly. "Of course you're a girl. You've always been..." He trailed off, his eyes wandering to Kíli, and suddenly he remembered that transgender people existed. "Oh," he said quietly.

Tauriel clenched her teeth. This was just like him. So oblivious, so insistent, so incapable of imagining experiences other than his own!

"Are you...trying to say you're a boy?" he asked.

"Not—not really," Legolas said. Xe squeezed her hand even tighter. "I'm—neither. I'm not a boy or a girl. I'm nonbinary. And my name isn't Síreth, it's Legolas, and I go by xe and xem pronouns, and, and—and I'm sorry I never told you earlier it's just all so frightening, you know, and—" Xe ran out of breath and looked down, tears budding in xir eyes. "Yeah. That."

Thorin shuffled his feet awkwardly, looking away from what was an intensely private moment. Tauriel suddenly regretted all of this. They should have done it in private—or not all—or—

"Oh..." Thranduil stood before them, at a loss for words. "I...are you sure?"

"Of course xe's sure," Tauriel snapped. "And I'm sure about myself, too!"

"What?" Thranduil took a step back, his entire worldview realigning. "Y-you too?"

" _I_  am your only daughter," she said firmly, her heart squeezing with a million different emotions. "I'm the girl. I am Lady Tauriel, the girl who danced with Kíli, and I am sick of living with you!"

Thranduil sat down in a chair, his face in his hands. "I...I'm sorry..." he said, his voice choked. "I didn't...I didn't know...I just wanted...what's best for us..."

"If you really wanted what was best you would have listened!" Tauriel was shouting now, all her pent-up rage exploding. "You would have listened to me, and let me go to the ball last night so I wouldn't have to sneak up to the palace, and you would have listened to Legolas when xe said xe didn't want to marry—"

"Tauriel," Legolas said. Xe turned to embrace her, and she froze for a moment. Then she relaxed, falling into her step-sibling's arms and sobbing.

"It's okay, Tauriel," xe murmured. "We did it. And—there's no reason to be angry now."

Behind them, Thorin coughed. Horrified, Tauriel jumped and stumbled into an awkward curtsy, no longer afraid to do what a lady was supposed to do.

"Your Majesty, I am so sorry," she said. "I—we should have done that in private, but..."

"We meant no offense," Legolas added on quickly. "I apologize for our father...and for our frustration—"

"There is no need to apologize," the king said gruffly. "I...understand this is difficult, for all of you." He nodded to Kíli. "The circumstances were different, but we have had our own experiences with transgender people."

Kíli walked forward and grasped Tauriel's hands. He stared up at her with warm brown eyes, and Tauriel felt her skin tingle where he touched her.

"Tauriel," he murmured. "Would you do the me honor of trying on the slipper?"

She giggled through her tears. "Oh, Kíli, you know it fits. I even have its pair, upstairs..."

He laughed. "I know, but it's the formality that counts. I have no ring for you yet, after all."

Wordlessly, Thranduil offered the slipper, staring intently at the two people he had never considered in this light before. Tauriel ignored him, her eyes only for Kíli.

Kíli knelt, the glass slipper in his hands. "Lady Tauriel of Silva, would you join your line to mine? Will you become a Princess of Erebor? Will you marry me?"

Tauriel smiled and lifted her foot. He slipped the shoe on: it fit perfectly.

She reached down and drew him up. "Yes," she said through a smile. "Yes, Prince Kíli, I will marry you."

She kissed him, and her life began anew.


	15. You on that High Flying Cloud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read and commented on this story. It's been a long year and a half since I began working on this fic, and I'm sad to see it come to an end - but I think this is the right place to end it. This story has been a labor of love for me, and I am truly grateful to everyone who enjoyed it.  
> Thanks to my beta and best friend, Buffintruda - this story wouldn't be half as amazing without you and your thoughtful commentary <3  
> The chapter title is another lyric from "Hey There", the same song the title comes from. I thought it fitting for a chapter about a wedding :)

The day of the wedding dawned warm and sunny. Fíli had never imagined what kind of a wedding he would want, and he was grateful this was not his special day, but he was glad for his brother that it wasn’t pouring rain.

Preparing for a wedding was not nearly the sappy, overly-romantic ordeal Fíli had feared. It was a lot of organizing, inviting, introducing, and (his favorite part) sampling food. Duke Bard had rather tiredly requested someone else be in charge of this particular event, and so Fíli had volunteered for the task, aided by two of Thorin’s oldest and stuffiest counselors, Lords Dwalin and Balin.

Kíli and Tauriel were anxious enough about their big day as it was, so Fíli forbade them from interfering with the plans in any way. Neither of them had expressed any strong opinions about color coordination, food flavor, or seating spaces, so he felt he could take control without ruining their day.

Balin and Dwalin were only so much help and mostly spent their time quarreling. Fíli ended up going to his mother for the most advice, and Dís was an expert helper. (Frankly, he thought she did more of the work than he did.)

Servants, hostler, and cooks all came to harass him on the morning of the wedding. Fíli did his best to help them with their troubles and deal with the arriving guests, but eventually he simply picked the most competent member of each group to take care of any issues. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur could work together to make his day just a bit easier.

He was not pleased as giggling noblewomen accosted him asking for where they were sitting as simply a way to flirt. “ _ I’m _ not getting married,” he told Lady Feren firmly as she fawned all over him. “Now, Lord Dori should be able to help you.”

Dori’s sister Ori shyly came up to him in the midst of her own ushering duties and asked where the pretty young twins were.

“Ladies Rúmil and Orophin, you mean?” he said. “They’re from some woody estate in the east, I believe. They were at the ball.”

“I remember,” Ori said. “Nori quite fell in love with their sister Haldir.” She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “And I liked Lady Rúmil. If I could see her again...” She blushed.

Fíli sighed. “I’m not organizing  _ your _ wedding, Ori,” he warned. “But she’s sitting over there. Don’t run off, now!” he called after her. “You’ve still got a job to do!”

If he could avoid romantic fools for one day, he’d be happy, but at a wedding he didn’t find that likely. Besides, he was too happy for Kíli to feel irritated for too long.

At last all the guests were seated. As the best man in addition to the chief organizer, Fíli was swamped with responsibility. There was a half hour before the ceremony actually began, and he decided to take the opportunity to hide in a tent and rest for a bit.

Unfortunately, the tent he chose happened to be Kíli’s.

“Fí!” Kíli cried upon seeing him. He ran forward and grabbed his arms. “Fíli, what’s going on out there? I hear so many people—how many showed up?”

Fíli shook himself loose. “Nearly everyone, by now. Dáin and Stonehelm are running late, as usual, but everyone else important is here.”

Kíli ran a hand through his hair. “I just...Fíli, what if I mess it all up?”

“The wedding, our your marriage?” he asked. He smacked Kíli’s hand away from his hair. “Stop that. Mother spent ages getting your hair just right.”

Kíli bit his lip. “Both, I guess,” he admitted. “I love Tauriel, but...what if it...doesn’t work out? What if in ten years down the line we aren’t in love anymore? And what if we...what if it turns out we can’t have children after all?”

Fíli had paused to think of such a possibility, but he refused to dwell on it then and now. “No, Kíli,” he said firmly. “You told me all about Tauriel’s crazy story with the gods and fairy godmothers, and if any of that is even remotely true, you’ve got important people on your side.” He shoved his brother lightly. “And me. We’ll always be here for you. Love’s work, you know—the gods know I have to work hard to not want to kick you out of the palace, some days!”

Kíli laughed. Then his face fell again. “Fíli...what if—”

“No more what ifs,” he said firmly. Fíli hugged him. “You’re ready for this, Kí. You’ll do great.”

Kíli embraced him tightly. “Thanks,” he whispered. “I hope you’re right.”

* * *

“You look gorgeous,” Legolas said fondly.

Tauriel spun around in her white gown, a smile wide across her face. “I’ve never been so excited!” she exclaimed. “I’m going to be a princess!”

Legolas laughed. Things were so different now than they had been before the ball. Both Tauriel and xemself were out and happy, living like they’d always wanted to. It was still difficult navigating life as a nonbinary person, but with Gimli by xir side and the other nonbinary people xe’d met through xir new friends Fíli and Kíli, xe had so much hope for the future.

And there was much hope to be found in the present. Today was Tauriel’s wedding day, and all her life was before her.

In the months between the ball and the wedding, Legolas had reconciled with xir father. Thranduil had been slow to understand but quick to accept, much to xir relief. He was full of apologies and promises to be better, and while Tauriel had doubted he’d follow up, xir own relationship with xir father was better than it had ever been. Thranduil only called xem by xir correct name and pronouns now, and when he had bought xir a gender-neutral outfit for the wedding, xe had almost cried.

There was a cough behind xem. Xe turned to see Gimli waving at them.

“Gimli!” Tauriel said.

“Tauriel, you look lovely,” Gimli said. They got along with Tauriel just as well Legolas could have hoped, and xe was beyond happy that the two people xe loved most were friends. “Hey, Legolas, my mother wants to talk to you.”

“Okay,” xe said. “Tauriel, I’ll be right back.”

“It’s about her wedding again.” Gimli shook their head. “It’s ridiculous—do you know how many people have been engaged recently? Next thing you know they’ll be looking at us!”

Legolas laughed uncomfortably. Xir feelings for Gimli were deep and important, so much so that it occasionally crossed xir mind that they might be romantic. Still, when xe was around them, such thoughts were nowhere to be found. Xe simply loved being with them.

Gimli led Legolas to where Mistress Glóin was arguing with her brother.

“I simply  _ won’t _ keep living with you, Óin!” she said crossly. “Not when my bride-to-be has a  _ castle _ in the countryside!”

“Perhaps Uncle Óin can move in with you two, Mother,” Gimli teased. They patted their mother’s head. “What was it you wanted to ask Legolas?”

“Oh, there you are!” Óin exclaimed. “Tell this stubborn old woman that pink and orange are  _ not _ good colors for a wedding!”

Legolas sighed, shaking xir head. “Pick any colors you want,” xe said. “I don’t care, as long as it makes you happy.”

Gimli and Óin groaned in unison. Glóin huffed and crossed her arms. “ _ Thank _ you, Legolas, I knew you’d take my side!” she cried. “Galadriel loves pink, and I love orange—”

“Oh, darling,” sang Glóin’s fiancee Galadriel as she strode into the room. “Are you still going on about the wedding colors? I’ll change my favorite to light blue, if you’re so set on orange.”

Legolas exchanged a look with Gimli. “Lovers,” Gimli said, making a face. “Come on, let’s go. They don’t need us anymore.”

They wandered back among the tents as the preparations came to a height. The ceremony was set to start in half an hour, but Legolas didn’t feel any sense of urgency. Xe was only content walking beside Gimli.

“It’s so odd that your mother managed to snare a lady like Galadriel,” Legolas said. “They’re so different.”

“She makes Mother happy, and that’s all I care about,” Gimli said, shrugging. “I’ll deal with their wedding if I have to. Romance.” They made a face.

Legolas opened xir mouth to respond, but xe heard a familiar voice from not too far off: “Bard, this wedding has made me think about many things.”

“Father!” xe whispered. “Where is he?”

Gimli peeked behind a tent flap. “In there,” they hissed. “Talking to the Duke.”

It was common knowledge that Bard and Thranduil were courting. Legolas had to put up with their embarrassing shenanigans with only Gimli and Bard’s own children to commiserate with; everyone else gushed over their relationship.

It was no longer about money and power for Thranduil: he’d gotten that as soon as Tauriel was betrothed to Kíli, and he truly loved Bard, as he admitted to his child one night after his fifth glass of wine. Legolas missed xir mother every day, and xe missed Arasseth too, but xe liked Bard too and wouldn’t mind a second father. Xe just wished they wouldn’t be so lovey-dovey all over the place.

“Like what, dear?” Bard asked. Legolas wrinkled xir nose.

“We should go,” xe whispered to Gimli. “This is private.”

Gimli didn’t move. They had a horrible habit of eavesdropping, and Legolas was forced to put up with it.

“Well...we’ve both been married before,” Thranduil said gently. “And...I wouldn’t mind being married again.”

“Is that a proposal?” Bard asked.

“I suppose you might call it that,” Thranduil admitted.

There was a long pause; Legolas could only imagine they were kissing or doing some equally romantic thing. Then at last, so quiet xe could barely hear it: “In that case, I accept.”

Xe grabbed Gimli’s hand and tugged on it. “Let’s go,” xe whispered.

This time, Gimli relented. They didn’t let go of xir hand even as the two of them wandered almost all the way back to Tauriel’s tent.

Their hand was warm and soft. Legolas’s heart felt light; xe didn’t want to let go.

“We ought to talk, sometime,” Gimli said quietly. They looked up at xem. “About—you know. Whatever this is.”

Legolas let xir grip loosen. “I’m sorry,” xe said. “I don’t mean to be—romantic—”

“No, no.” Gimli stepped closer. “It’s not bad. It’s good. Great. But...I mean, there isn’t time now. It’s just, and I don’t mean this romantically but...” They smiled. “I love you, Legolas.”

Legolas smiled. “I love you, too.”

“Legolas, is that you out there?” Tauriel called. “I dropped a hairpin, can you help me find it?”

Impulsively, Legolas gave Gimli a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’ve got to go,” xe said. “But—later, we’ll talk.”

Gimli winked at xem. “Of course.”

Head spinning and heart pounding, Legolas ducked back into Tauriel’s tent.

* * *

Tauriel would never forget her wedding ceremony. The faces in the crowd, all those who loved her watching her unite in marriage to Kíli, the love of her life—everything about it was perfect. Fíli had planned a perfect event, and even Legolas shed a tear. She felt on top of the world, or higher, like she was dancing on a cloud.

The reception afterward was exhausting but rewarding. She happily accepted gifts and congratulations, never once letting go of her husband’s hand.

There was only one person there she dreaded greeting. And when he arrived, she could barely meet his eyes.

“Your Highness,” said Thranduil with a bow. “I don’t know if I can get used to calling you a princess. You’ve always been my little—” He broke off, realizing what he was saying. “My little Lady Tauriel.”

Tauriel sighed. “Thank you, my lord.”

He offered her a box. “For the happy couple, with all my love.”

She didn’t take it. After an awkward moment, Kíli reached out and opened it. Inside was a set of silverware. Initials were engraved on it:  _ T _ s on some,  _ K _ s on others. There were other, smaller ones left blank.

“For you and your children,” Thranduil explained.

“Thank you, Thranduil!” Kíli said. He beamed at his father-in-law. Tauriel stared at a fork emblazoned with the letter  _ T _ . Maybe...maybe he had changed.

“Tauriel, could I have a moment of your time?” Thranduil asked. He glanced at Kíli. “I don’t mean to distract you from your husband, but...”

She looked up. Discomfort radiated from his being, and for the first time she realized he was just as hurt as she was. They had barely spoken since she had come out to him, each interaction carefully cordial and shallow.

“Yes, of course,” she said reluctantly. Kíli gave her a quick kiss, and murmured, “Be kind to him, Tau. He’s trying.”

She forced a smile on her face, then followed Thranduil into a nearby tent.

When they were alone, he bowed his head. “Tauriel, I just want to say...I’m very happy for you.”

She nodded. “I...thank you.”

“And I know we don’t see eye to eye, and—that I’ve hurt you, in the past,” he continued, still looking at his feet, “but I truly apologize for that. And I want to make it up to you.”

She said nothing. She didn’t know what to say.

“You’re my daughter,” he said. “I may not have always known it, but you are. And you—you make a beautiful bride. You remind me of your mother...”

“You really love me,” she said softly. It was the first time she had truly considered the possibility. All this time, she had thought he was putting up with her at best or that he hated her at worst.

“Of course I do.” Thranduil looked up at her, his eyes watering. “Did you not know? You were Arasseth’s child, and then you were mine. I want the best for you...and I’m learning that may not always be what I think.”

Tauriel began to cry.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. He reached out a hand as if to touch her, then stopped himself. “Are you alright, Tauriel?”

She threw herself into her father’s arms. “I’m wonderful,” she sobbed. “I just realized something, is all.”

Shocked, Thranduil put his arms around her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged him, and didn’t know if she’d ever done it sincerely. But now that her father held her in his arms, she knew she’d been missing the touch and love a parent that she’d been denying for so long.

“What is it?” he asked, his own voice wobbly.

She laughed through her tears. “It’s silly. I guess I should have known earlier but—I love you, too, Father.”

* * *

Now they were alone. The wedding was a grand success, and Kíli was thrilled to hear that his wife had finally reconciled with her father. But he had yearned to be alone with Tauriel since the moment they were declared husband and wife, and he was eager to shower her in private affection.

The door shut behind them. A candle was lit, filling the room with a soft glow.

Kíli looked up at Tauriel. His wife. His gorgeous, perfect wife. Unable to stop himself, he pulled her into a passionate kiss, feeling all her love and fears in their combined touch.

Tauriel led him to their bed, and they fell into it together. Kíli was lost in her lips; he pulled at her clothes and was overcome by his love and desire.

“Are you ready?” Tauriel whispered in his ear. “For all this?”

“I’m ready for anything, so long you are with me,” he murmured.

She laughed softly, then blew out the candle.

* * *

A child wandered through the palace halls. Lost, the child toddled all alone, crying out for a parent that wasn’t there.

A figure appeared at the end of a hallway: a woman in a gray robe.

“Now, now, child, this won’t do,” she said. The child looked up at her, but was not afraid. Children did not fear this woman.

“Take my hand,” she instructed, and the child obeyed, wiping away a tear. “What are your parents thinking, letting such an important little person like you go unwatched?” She tutted. “They’re lucky you’ve got me looking over you.”

The child giggled. “Who’re you?”

“I’m your mother’s friend,” the woman said. She tousled the child’s dark curls. “You’ve got her eyes, you know. And your father’s hair.”

“Mama says I look like the king,” the child said seriously.

The woman nodded thoughtfully. “More like his brother. But you’re the Heir, aren’t you?”

“After Uncle Fí-fí,” the child said proudly.

They reached the door to the nursery. “Alright, now, run along,” the woman said. “Tell your mother I said hello.”

“Okay!” the child said, running away without a second thought.

“There you are!” cried a woman’s voice. “Oh, I was worried!”

“Mama, Mama, your friend brought me back!” the child said.

The woman in gray chuckled. She walked back down the hall, shaking her head. Children were a delight, especially when they were hers to watch over.

“My friend?” said the mother in wonder.

“Look, right outside!” said the child.

The woman in gray turned glanced over her shoulder. The child pointed at her and waved, safely held by the mother.

“Gandalf?” the mother said. “Is that you?”

Gandalf winked, and was gone.

* * *

 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story started out as a romantic Kiliel fic, but as I developed it, I am amazed to look at what it's become. Legolas, Gimli, and Fili all featured much more prominently than I had first imagined, and I'm really fond of Legolas's own arc throughout the fic. The beating heart of the story is the familial relationships, and I hope that this chapter gave a satisfying conclusion to one of the more troubled ones throughout, Thranduil and Tauriel.  
> I didn't even intend to include Gimli in this fic at first, and had to edit them back in at a certain point! But I really enjoyed writing them, and I like their relationship with Legolas a lot. I interpret it as queerplatonic in this case, and I think it turned out pretty well.  
> I also never imagined I'd write Gloin/Galadriel fic...let alone fem!Gloin/Galadriel...but idk, it happened, somehow.  
> Thank you all again!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Please comment, feedback means the world to me!!


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